


What We're Fighting For

by flux_eterna



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Earth, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Genophage, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infertility, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Sex, Mass Effect 3, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, Palaven, Pregnancy complications, Smut, Tuchanka, Turians, Xenophilia, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2018-12-30 21:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 92,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12118053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flux_eterna/pseuds/flux_eterna
Summary: *summary change since we're in post-war territory now*Viv Shepard and Adrien Victus navigate life during and after the Reaper war.  From uncertainty before the culmination of the galaxy-wide battle against the Reapers to figuring out what life in the world after looks like, they embark on a journey of life, love, aftermath, and--of course--interspecies awkwardness.





	1. Night Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect or its original characters, I just use them do my bidding.

Late into the Normandy’s night cycle, Viv Shepard meandered down to the mess, exhausted after unearthing a weapon of mass destruction hidden from sight of the krogan yet right beneath their noses.  That shortsightedness had cost Primarch Victus’ son, Tarquin, his life.  Shepard mourned alongside him in solidarity, sure, but the notion that this was some brand of poetic justice wasn’t lost on her.

The turians had planted that bomb on Tuchanka in an effort to control the krogan without them knowing about it in the face of the rebellions and the resulting genophage.  Having been a long forgotten remnant of the past, Cerberus had unearthed it and Tarquin’s unit led the offensive in ensuring Cerberus could not detonate it.  Its disarmament had ended up costing him his life.  Adrien Victus was grateful that his son’s death had not been in vain; that he had died with honor, to right one of the greatest wrongs of the past, but to Shepard this was an unsettling reminder of the costs—old and new—associated with the wars of times passed.  Back-handed maneuvers along could-be allies didn’t keep the peace that time, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to work this time.

Victus had been resistant to the comforts offered by the ground team for that mission, having witnessed firsthand that Tarquin wanted to do the noble thing; the _right_ thing.  Shepard, Garrus, and EDI had offered their condolences but Victus was adamant that the time for mourning was not now, not during this other, larger war that had been raining hell on them—Earth and Palaven burning, lives stifled in the embers. Now?  Now was the time to persevere.  With krogan support just shy of being secured, the team had some semblance of drive to persevere as Victus needed them to.  He needed their commitment for the people of Palaven, not their sympathies—sympathies didn’t save lives.  He had been clear about that much.  _The needs of the many_ , he thought to himself.

Shepard sipped her tea in an attempt at calming her nerves, try as she might.  The steam from her mug assaulted her senses, warm lavender as an olfactory reminder of calm; of days spent on spring mornings getting lost in her art, her writing—how she longed for those moments.  Someday, she thought.  Someday the only person she would need to be accountable for was herself and only then would she allow those easy pleasures back into her life.  The best she could do now was remind herself of simpler times; the recollection of those times sometimes quelling her anxiety, reminding herself of the life she’s fighting for—the life that she _could_ have.  _Someday,_ she thought _, if I make it through this_. The ‘if’ always rang in the back of her mind.

Victus knew this.  They all had their doubts.  When he saw Shepard sipping her tea at a table in the mess, he sat across from her with a cup of kava of his own. 

“Commander, didn’t expect to see you up at this hour,” he said as he lowered himself into the seat.

“Never could get much sleep after an adrenaline rush like that, not these days anyway,” she replied, a grimace dropping across her stern countenance.

“Oh?” he said, a note of curiosity lacing his subharmonics.

“Yeah, my reaction to tense, uh, ‘run of the mill’ life or death situations is much different than before Cerberus uh…rebuilt me,” she looked down, and continued, “Rushes like that used to get me going in the heat of the moment, you know?  The thrill of battle, and all that comes with it, I’m sure you remember what that’s like.  I still get that, and strangely, in its totally fucked up kind of way, feels more intoxicating than ever.”

He caught her eyes as she looked back up, he said “Yes, I might be the Primarch of Palaven now, but not too long ago—ahem, last week was it?  I was fighting alongside many just like yourself.  I do recall this feeling which you speak of, however _distant_ , Commander.”

She laughed, a quiet throaty thing.  “Wow, a sense of humor comes out at this dark hour.  I’m impressed, Primarch.”

“Yeah, yeah—don’t tell the crew that.  Turian honor and all.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she grinned and continued, “Coming down off of that high just isn’t the same as it used to be.  Before, it was like this rush and then a crash.  The crash was _terrible_ , I’ll never forget those days where I felt I could just sleep for hours and hours.  But, in the same breath, it made me feel, I don’t know—human.  Alive.

“Now, it’s like my body is programmed and _primed_ for that sort of thing.  Always battle ready, never any time to come down.  I feel like I’m still me, my head is my own and my decisions are mine, but this body?  I don’t know if it’s anything I’ll ever get used to.”

The Primarch thought on what she said for a moment, eyes darting around momentarily before catching hers staring back.  The silence got awkward, as the seconds passed, and there was a new tension borne of their dialogue. His thoughts flitted briefly.

He mustered his resolve and piped up, “You’re pretty human, Shepard,” subharmonics giving way to a little more than he was truly wanting to divulge.

_Not like she can understand them anyway_.

“What does that mean?” she asked of the soothing trill that layered his voice.

“You’re pretty human?  Um, well—humans seem to really be able to bounce back, you know, resilient?  I mean—“

She laughed and said, “no, no, I know what you meant.  I was talking about the tone under your voice.  What’s it mean?  Garrus has taught me a little but I’m still pretty clueless.”

He took a moment to reply, considering how best to articulate the feelings of fondness that were unintentionally presenting themselves.Victus took a risk, deciding to be bold, and said, “Well, you may find this as surprising as I do, Commander, but in the time we have spent together, bracing this war, I may have developed a certain _fondness_ for you.  I hope I’m not out of line for saying as much.”  His amber eyes darted away and then quickly back to her green ones while she bored holes in him with her inquisitive glare.

“Just Viv.  Please, if we’re getting personal.”

“Adrien, then.  Off the clock, of course.”

She smiled as his gaze returned to hers, while she never outwardly displayed affection toward the Primarch, not outside of a professional capacity of course, she _had_ grown to like him; hell, even care about him.  He was a good guy to have around, not just for his savviness in unconventional strategy, but for casual conversations, drinks, and companionship aboard the Normandy during its travels.  She considered that in the current state of things, when the every new day is a gift to be cherished, she, too, opted for bluntness.

“Okay, Adrien.  What would the Hierarchy say about their new Primarch making eyes at a human Commander?” she asked as a smirk played over her sharp features.

“I never was one to play by the rules,” he said, “and honestly?  This grief?  This torment that every new day brings?  I’ve made mistakes before, not acting when I knew I should.  Not taking opportunities as they present themselves, and you?  Well, let’s just say that you have some traits that are, in so many words,  _appealing_ to our kind.  You’re strong, you’re accountable, you own your actions even when those actions threaten your career or influence the fate of the galaxy.  That’s admirable, Viv.  You’re admirable.  And if our time is short, there’s nobody on this ship that I’d rather spend it with than you.”

Shepard blushed and removed one hand from her mug of tea, reaching across the table to entwine it with Adrien’s.  Awkward at first, but she’d seen asari and turians hold hands enough to recall the two-one-two arrangement, but she corrected herself and smiled at the small comfort that such a gesture brought.

Adrien looked down at their entwined hands and back up to her piercing green eyes.

“So, what exactly are you hoping to get out of this, Adrien?”

“Well.  I am wearing thin, Viv.  And if _you_ are handling the recent turn of events in anywhere near the same fashion that I am, I would venture to say that you’re bearing a bit on your shoulders as well.  I can see it in your eyes, you need a chance to get it off your mind much as I do,” he flared his mandibles in the turian approximation of a smirk as his voice lilted slightly up, subvocals taking that same tone of fondness as before.  “I say, we enjoy the remaining hours of this night cycle while it lasts, and chalk it up to allies engaging in mutually beneficial, much needed stress relief.  What do you say?”

“You drive a hard bargain, Adrien,” she quipped, and without taking more than a brief moment to consider the Primarch's offer, said “alright, I’m in.”

With more than a little shock, given Adrien’s conceptions of how humans viewed such encounters, he nodded his head toward the elevator and released Viv’s hand so she could get up and do away with her mug as he did the same. 

_The Primarch of Palaven_ , she thought to herself as the smallest hint of a smirk paraded over her full, dark painted lips.  She’d thought about being with turians before, sure, but such thoughts had eluded her lately.  Garrus was her best friend, and they’d considered going this route but in the end decided that their relationship reflected more of what siblings might have rather than a romantic pairing, which was fine with her; though, that realization dawned on her the night before the Omega-4 relay after attempting (and failing miserably), to take their camaraderie a step further.  At times like these, she needed those sorts of bonds, like that of she and Garrus', more than anything—forged in the fires of war, mourned mutual losses, comfort in times of crisis.  That she and Garrus _hadn’t_ delved into romance with one another was shocking to the rest of the crew who had a pool going on when it would _finally_ happen.  Viv kept that story to herself. 

But their relationship hadn’t meandered into romance, and she had no ties binding her now—and wouldn’t, for a while.  Soon, Victus would need to get back to leading his people on their front lines rather than on hers.  His presence on the Normandy was a welcome one, to be sure, but Viv had a concrete understanding that his days aboard were numbered and expecting more than physical gratification from this interlude would be foolish—there was a war on; if they made it through this, there would be time for romance later.  Viv was never prudish anyway, with a very cavalier attitude toward sex in general.  There was love, of course, which when entwined with sex was an entirely different beast its own, but sex in and of itself?  Sex was just two people, agreeing to a good time to achieve mutually gratifying results.

And with a _turian_? She had a feeling that the results achieved from this counter would be _more_ than gratifying.


	2. Thick and Thin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viv and Adrien try for some levity in her cabin at her best friend's expense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to ShudderShock for beta reading!
> 
> Rating will change as of next chapter. You've been warned.
> 
> Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXMCaj6Bjd9rM5aEs-whpaZmrh7alrdkn
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters are solely the product of BioWare. I just use them to do my bidding.

What Shepard hadn’t realized, however, was that this meant far more to Adrien than he truly let on.  He described his subharmonics to Shepard somewhat less than truthfully, telling her they articulated fondness—which was true to a degree, yes—but embedded _in_ that fondness was so much more. 

In the short amount of time that he’d been aboard the Normandy, he had the chance to watch her, learn her, see what made her tick.  Unlike other humans he’d met and worked alongside, he felt at times like she reasoned and commanded like a turian, and fought like a krogan.  She extended asari-like diplomacy when it mattered, and underneath all that, Viv had a vibrancy unlike any other species he had encountered.  _Strange human_ , he thought.

They made their way through the crew deck to the elevator, as a strange sort of silence descended upon them. Viv pulled an odd vibe from him; he walked close, but since their hands parted after getting up to put their mugs away, he seemed unwilling to touch her.  She smiled at him, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes; his mandibles pulled tightly to his face, like he was lightyears away. 

She opted for bluntness again.  “Are you sure about this?” Viv asked. “I mean, you proposed it, and I gladly accepted, but if you’ve changed your mind, we don’t have to.  I won’t be upset, no harm done.”

Appearing startled, Adrien risked eye contact.  He realized that timing was not on their side, but felt it was unfair to the commander to not explain himself.  “I’ve lost a mate, a son.  Layer that on top of the catastrophic losses of my homeworld—I’m a mess, Viv.”

Viv opted to let him continue— she knew he must’ve been a screeching train wreck, but damn if he didn’t do an excellent job of covering it up.

“I know I said this was nothing more than friends—comrades—relieving stress.  But I have to be honest with you. Watching you, your resolve… you give me hope.  I can’t pretend that my admiration of you is merely professional.  I’m also not ignorant to facts of what we face. And that there’s a very real possibility that one, or both of us, won’t make it out of this.  But if one night is all we have, then I want to make the most of it.  If we both make it out alive, we can see where this leads us on the other side.”

Viv decided to come clean herself, and explained her returned affections with a smile that lit up her eyes. “A small part of me was kind of hoping you’d say that.” She said, gaining the resolve to come clean.  She’d been admiring him for a while—his elegant stature, bold colony markings in sweeping patterns, amber eyes akin to the color of a dark Earth topaz, and a fringe that just said _regal_ , no matter your language of origin.  He truly was beautiful; an aesthetic marvel to any right-thinking sentient being with a pair of functioning eyes. 

“Oh?” He said, that same tone he dubbed _fondness_ from earlier lacing his dual-toned voice and igniting a fire in Viv that coursed from her heart to her core. That soothing rumble _had_ to mean more than that, she could feel it pooling in her gut.  “I didn’t think you’d feel the same way, Commander.”

“What did I tell you about that, Adrien?” She chuckled under her breath, that same throaty, feminine bellow from earlier and said, “I think we’re beyond rank by now.”

“Sorry Viv, force of habit.” He corrected. “But, I do have one question.”

The elevator arrived, slow as ever, and they both walked in. Viv eagerly used the interface to deliver them to her cabin. Her impatience was apparent, and Adrien’s mandibles flicked in a smirk. The doors slid closed, and Adrien resumed as a hint of what Garrus had told her meant _nerves_ bestowed his voice with a trill. “Have you ever been uh, _intimate_ with a turian?”

She laughed and said, “Almost.  But not quite.”

“Almost?” He inquired.

She nodded. “Remember me telling you that Garrus and I had a sort of ‘sibling’ relationship?”

“Yes, of course.” Adrien answered.  “Vakarian has been by your side for quite a while, always thought it was something more than that of a typical commander, and her subordinate.”

“Well, we came to that realization after an evening of _horrible_ interspecies awkwardness, as he would put it.” Viv recalled.

“Oh, I have to hear this story.” Adrien said, laughing under his breath, subharmonics brimming with warmth. As the elevator doors hissed open, they walked out and entered her cabin. “If it’s truly that bad, Vakarian is never living this down.”

“Are you really going to make me do this now, of all times, Adrien?”  She spared a sidelong glance at him as if to say, _You’re really going to make me relive one of the most awkward evenings of my life, aren’t you, you turian bastard?_

“Absolutely I am.” He said with a turian smirk that ran all the way up to his eyes and brow plates. Making his way to the couch, Viv offered him a dextro beer as he got comfortable.  She poured herself a glass of bourbon—aged to perfection—and sighed. It was a sound emanating relaxation and contentment, as she seated herself within companionable distance from the turian occupying her space— she near the corner of the sectional sofa and Adrien to her left.  If Viv was going to recount _that_ evening, she needed alcohol; something stiff.

She took a sip of her bourbon and leaned forward, legs comfortably open in a relaxed slouch as her elbows rested on the tops of her thighs.  Her drink in one hand, the other moving animatedly as she began recounting the events leading up to hitting the Omega-4 relay.

“You know, I’m sure that tensions were high leading up to hitting the Collector base.  Everyone onboard was grasping at straws, you know, seeking out whatever shallow comforts they could find— myself included.” Viv began.

She took another sip. Adrien was getting better about making, and keeping, eye contact than he’d been on the way to her cabin.  _Some levity_ , she thought, _maybe that’s all he needs._

She continued, “At one point, I was down visiting Garrus in the main battery. He was calibrating, as usual—and I ever so subtly propositioned him… not one of my finer moments, I’ll admit.  Something about _reach_ and _flexibility_.” Viv shuddered at the memory and said, “We were all a little desperate.”

Adrien let out a quiet hum with _interest_ as a backdrop to his main voice, signaling her to continue.

“A couple of bad metaphors later, and we had agreed to mutually find some _calm before the storm_ , as he put it.” She remembered, a smile accompanying the memory. “So, that night, we had two hours to go before embarking on a mission that most of us were sure, we were never coming back from.  He brought wine and horrible music. Sweet to be sure, but awkward as all hell.”

“Sounds about right—Vakarian never was good with women of his own species, let alone a human.” Adrien added.

“Tell me about it.” She quipped, with a quirk to her brow.  “He came in, flipped on the music without saying a _word_ , and proceeded to tell me of my _very supportive_ waist, and in lieu of commenting on the fringe that I didn’t have, told me my hair looked _good_.”

She tilted her drink, ice cubes clicking against glass.

“We poured ourselves a couple of glasses of wine, I think it took him all of five seconds to down the whole thing. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that worked up over something, _anything_.  And I get nerves, sure—even with someone of your _own_ species, that first time can be nerve wracking.  He was just so worried that taking _that_ step in our relationship. Worried it would ruin everything, despite any reassurances I offered.”

“He places a lot of value on your companionship. I could see why he’d be so concerned.” Adrien offered.

“Yeah, and I get that.  Just... him, of all people.  Don’t you turians ‘blow off steam’ with non-romantic partners ALL the time?” Viv asked.

“Oh yes, that we do.” He confirmed.  “But, I could see how he would be wary of that sort of relationship with you being human and everything.  If you were a turian, it probably would’ve been no big deal.” Adrien said. “Humans can just be so strange about sex, I don’t understand it at all.”

“I suppose so.” Viv conceded, then continued, “Anyway, we were making our way through awkward compliments, and my attempts at easing his nerves.  We polished off the bottle of wine. We’d been sitting there for a half an hour or so, him too nervous to make the first move, me not wanting to pressure him into anything he wasn’t sure about.  I started feeling kind of guilty about the whole thing. I mean, this is my best friend in the galaxy, and the absolute last thing I needed in that moment was to jeopardize that.  I felt horrible, to be honest.” Viv confessed.

“He was the one to finally break the silence.” She recalled. “He wanted reassurance, that I wanted this too.  At that time?  I wanted _anything_ to pull my mind away from the dread that haunted me every waking moment.  Just needed something to free my head from all that, if only for a short, fleeting while.  He wanted that too, and him being the only person I could count on to follow me into hell?  It didn’t make sense to go _there_ with anyone else.”

“That sort of a bond is a hard one to find.” Adrien remarked. “And if it’s any consolation, I’d follow you into hell too.”  And he _meant_ it.

Viv spared a smile and looked down at her drink, again raising it to her lips for another pull, emptying her glass.  She refilled her glass with two fingers of the bourbon, and offered Adrien another dextro beer.

“I do have some turian brandy, if you’d prefer.” She said as she pulled out a bottle for him.

“Trying to take advantage of a grieving turian, Viv?  I am _shocked_.” He laughed, saying “I’d like to maintain as many of my faculties as possible tonight, but thank you.”  If this was going to happen, he wanted to _remember_ it.

She nodded, eyes closing as her head tilted downward in concession, and handed the bottle of beer to him. She then sat down again, to resume retelling her and Garrus’ failed encounter.

“So, at that point, we’d finished our drinks. Had about an hour and a half to go before Omega-4.” Viv started.  “I said, ‘Well, Garrus—we doin’ this or not?’.  He was _clearly_ taken aback. He said ‘Uh, uhm. Yeah, okay.  Yeah’.” She imitated him, articulating the endearing awkwardness of the moment.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him falter like that.” Viv disclosed.   “You know Garrus, cocksure and damn near always gloating about this thing or that.  This was a side to him I hadn’t seen before.  I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that, so I stood up and took off my shirt. ‘When in doubt?  Just get naked!’ was my rationale for that. But, I should’ve _known_ that it wouldn’t be that easy.”

They both paused for a laugh. Adrien shifted his body, and Viv realigned hers so their knees shared greater proximity—neither touching just yet, but in position for companionable sharing and more manageable eye contact. 

_I think this is working_. She thought to herself. _Maybe all he needed was a good laugh, even at Garrus’ expense._

She resumed. “And you should have _seen_ the look in his eyes, like he’d been hit with one of those old Earth steam engine trains.” Viv elaborated. “If I thought that the human body was alien to him before, it was sure as shit cemented in that moment.”

“Let me guess, let me guess.” He interjected. “Breasts.  Had no idea of what to do with them?”

“Not a CLUE!” She added adamantly, gesturing to the aquarium across the room from herself and Adrien. “We were both standing right over there! I’d taken my shirt off and grabbed his hand to have him follow me.  And he started _poking_ them, Adrien…POKING.”

They both took a second to laugh at Viv’s animated recounting of events before she continued. Victus’ laughter filled with warmth, Shepard’s slightly louder than usual— no doubt her bourbon taking effect.

“I said to him, I said ‘Uhhhhh…what, what’re you doing?  Did you uh…do _any_ of your… _research_?’” And he stopped, looking just absolutely _crestfallen_. My heart broke for him a little, it really did.” Viv revealed softly, before continuing. “And then, in true Garrus fashion, he asked me if I had, and I told him as much. Had to know the _basics_ at the very least, and he said ‘Uh, no Shepard.  I think you’ve put me at a tactical disadvantage.  I thought the whole _research thing_ was a _joke._ ’”

She laughed again as she drawled more liquid courage up from her glass. “A _tactical_ disadvantage?  Really, Garrus?  And what the hell reason would I have to _joke_ about that?!  We are from two _entirely_ different species, in case you didn’t know! And you’re bringing _tactics_ into this?  If that’s how we’re gonna play it, poking my boobs isn’t gonna do a _damn_ thing for me.” Her voice was layered with mirth, the memory clearly an embarrassing one for Vakarian, but a fond one for her.

“So after the whole poking incident, I took his hand, started showing him what to do.  You know, the basics.” She said, thinking to herself that maybe Adrien _didn’t_ know the basics; _but I’ll find out soon enough_. “And he just stiffened up when I started reacting to what he was doing.  He’s a quick study, that one.  He was doing just fine.”

Adrien continued sipping his beer, giving Viv rapt attention, mandibles flaring ever so slightly in amusement from hearing about the revered Reaper advisor, crashing and burning with a human female.

“So, he was working on my chest, doing a damn fine job, but he was still fully dressed, and I wanted to rectify that situation. So, I started fumbling around with all those absolutely ridiculous clasps, and buttons, and buckles, and whatever the hell else you guys have on your civvies. I mean, _really_ , you’re a 15,000-year-old civilization, and you couldn’t figure out _zippers_?” Viv asked incredulously.

“Please do not blame me for the misdeeds of my people, Viv.” Adrien quipped with a note of humor in his subvocals. “I know you humans are the ‘great innovators’ of the galaxy.” He gestured with air quotes. “But you don’t have spurs, cowls, or carapaces to deal with.  I think you should cut us some slack, zipper-less attire or no.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She conceded. “I fumbled for a good _minute_ with his tunic before he even so much as offered to help me, and when he got it off he just stood there. We weren’t touching. I caught that telling blue flush creeping up his neck, poor guy.”

Laughing, she added, “He did his best to appear coy, saying ‘See somethin’ you like, Shepard?’ and really, I did…I liked what I saw _a lot_.  Never realized how utterly _stunning_ the turian form really is—those anatomy charts you get in basic really don’t do it justice. And Garrus?  Anyone with eyes can see that he’s _beautiful_.  But it was then that I started getting this feeling in the pit of my gut that _something_ about this just wasn’t quite right.”

“How do you mean?” Adrien asked.  “Sounds like you retconned the whole ‘poking’ thing. Doesn’t seem like a half-naked turian would be enough to throw you off.”

“No, no it wasn’t that at all.  I think I’d anticipated a little interspecies awkwardness going into it, no matter how uh…welcome the sight of Garrus without a shirt on was.  No, no. The fact that _neither_ of us had been with the others’ species, and no matter how much research I did at the time… there were bound to be learning curves here and there.  Garrus hadn’t looked up a damn thing.”

She glanced back at her drink, and brought it to her lips in a brief pause before resuming. With a soft, warm chuckle she said, “No, it wasn’t that.  It was more about the _kind_ of love I started feeling for him in that moment.  It was a kind of love I hadn’t felt since I lost my entire damn family.”

“I’d read about that— Mindoir right?” He asked.

“That’s the one.” She confirmed. “Everyone I’d ever loved, gone.  That fast.  The kind of love—familial love, bonds—that forever kind of _I’ll always have your back, no matter what_ kind of love?  I didn’t think I’d feel it for anyone ever again. If anything because I knew how much it hurt to _lose_ that.  Your support system, anyone you’ve ever trusted, relied on—gone, right out from under you.”

Adrien leaned in, setting his beer down on the table with one hand, and simultaneously taking Viv’s in the other. He used his free hand to rest atop the one he held in his own. _Comfort_ , he thought, knowing that touch was often sought out by humans in moments like these.  Only turians who were seriously involved or mated engaged in such gestures with other turians. But, he felt it appropriate given the circumstance, and tone of the conversation, as well as the reason for which they were sitting here, having this conversation in the first place.

“That night, before the Collector base?  That’s when I realized what Garrus really meant to me.” Viv admitted. “He meant _hope_ , _trust_ , _strength, respect_.  And you can draw those things from a romantic partner, of course. But, I knew then that Garrus was more than a friend, more than a lover—he was _family_ ; the only I’ve had since Mindoir.  I guess he felt the same way, me being like a sister— like he was halfway picturing Solana instead of me standing there.”

They both burst out in slurred, guttural laughter at the thought. 

“I can see how that might dampen the mood.” Adrien said, removing his hand from atop Shepard’s, and tracing her knuckles with the tip of a taloned finger.

“He did stay though, after that. For the time we had left before getting to the relay.  After everything we’d been through up to that point, and what we both knew we were about to walk into?  A little platonic cuddling was called for.” Viv said.  “We both needed it that night, even though you turians are weird about that kind of contact outside of mated couples and family.  I commented on that, and all Garrus had to say was ‘I’m not a very good turian.’” 

Adrien laughed at that, “Neither am I, though I’m _sure_ you knew that already, given how much you seem to know about our culture.” He said with a note of _something else_ layering into his voice. 

She quirked an eyebrow at that, grinning all the while.  “Research.” she said.


	3. Sated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. First ever smut. You've been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist Updated: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXMCaj6Bjd9rM5aEs-whpaZmrh7alrdkn
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Mass Effect, BioWare does. I just use the characters to do my bidding.
> 
> Special Thanks: To ShudderShock for beta-ing!!

Adrien continued tracing her knuckles, taking extra time where the bones stuck out _just so_ , and marveled at that.  _So fragile_ , he thought, _beautiful._

Silence, again, descended over them.  But it was a different kind of silence.  Viv smiled, watching the taloned finger graze her skin in the most _appealing_ of ways.  It wasn’t often that she saw a turian without their gloves on; she should have found it terrifying, but considering the pleasure-pains they might incite terminated that line of reasoning.

Adrien looked up at her without stopping, gradually extending his exploration to her wrists, feeling the play of tendons, and muscle beneath his fingertips.  _Fascinating_.  He trailed up Viv’s arm toward the crook of her elbow, enjoying the softer parts here that met with more hard bone on the other side.  Turians were covered in plates—they didn’t have this much variation.  There were plated areas, and sparse soft spots—as a rule, no in-between.  This woman was _all_ softness, hard muscle, and jutting bone—a warrior.  Adrien had never touched such a beautiful thing.

Viv closed her eyes and hummed a note of approval.  And when she opened her eyes back up, she was met with a predatory amber stare.

Never ceasing eye contact, Viv used her free hand to grasp Adrien’s while his other continued exploring her flesh from wrist to shoulder.  He lit up with a toothy turian grin.  Adrien had found that most humans would quickly dart their eyes away at such a show, but not this human.  Viv was steadfast, anticipatory even.

“I never asked you,” she stated, breathy and intent.

“What’s that?” Adrien purred.

“Have you ever been _intimate_ with a human?” Viv asked him, point blank just as he had her.

“Once,” he said, still not averting his eyes.

“So at least one of us knows what we’re doing?”  Really, that was all she cared about.  Viv wasn’t interested in hearing about the experience, forcing Adrien to elaborate further.  _Not important_ she thought, _a story for another time, perhaps._

Adrien nodded, and as if to prove himself, leaned in and pressed his mouth plates to her dark, maroon-painted lips, bringing up a hand to run his talons through her choppy, midnight black hair.  She closed her eyes and gave in to his advance, releasing her grip from his hand and allowing hers to trail up his arm.  She could feel the rigid planes of his dermal plates through the fabric of his tunic, and took extra time at the few gaps between the plates that she could make out.  A quiet rumbling started forming in his chest, reverberating up through his mouth while it met hers, and opening slightly to allow his tongue to seek entry into her mouth.

She reciprocated in kind, following his lead as his long, prehensile tongue battled against her smaller, smoother one.  She considered, for a moment, that the roughness would take some getting used to—at least in this context, and she was hoping beyond _hope_ that he didn’t have a levo-amino allergy, because that roughness held a certain _appeal_ to other waiting, needy regions on her body. That he wasn’t holding back here, however, bode well for her later intent.

She reached her hands up to explore the skin on his neck; softer than that of his arms save for the gaps in plating, but still slightly speckled with small rough patches.  That earned her a low, needy growl and she continued exploring, until she found the soft, forgiving flesh beneath his fringe.

At that, and with unchecked strength, he roughly pulled her into his lap, encouraging her to straddle him.  He halted his exploration of her mouth, and instead buried his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder. Adrien inhaled deeply while he pulled her tightly against him.

Viv blushed, adding more redness to her already flushed countenance. 

“Are you… _smelling_ me?” She asked, a hint of both shock and arousal lacing her inquiry.

“Indeed I am,” Adrien confirmed, his tone confident. “You are _intoxicating_.”

She chuckled, and tilted her head to the side to allow him more berth for his explorations.

Another deep inhale, a sigh from Viv, and he gently—but with an eager ferocity—started nipping his way to the front of the column of her throat.  Cautious of his teeth’s potential to shred the thin flesh there, he took special care to use his mouth plates only; for now, at least. 

Viv continued smoothing her hands over the sensitive flesh beneath his fringe, deviating occasionally to admire the ridged plates disappearing beneath it.  Whenever her fingers returned to _the spot_ , Adrien became more eager, needy.  She reveled in the slight control she held over him, in that moment.

Viv pulled back, and met eyes with him again through thick eyelashes and lazy eyelids.  Her cabin went hazy save for the turian beneath her, focused as if in a firefight, running after one last target before fleeing the scene.  As if in competition, Adrien reached down and gripped a large hand at the side of her waist, squeezing, eliciting a surprised chirp from Viv while his hand encased more than half of her torso. 

Adrien looked down at his hand and noticed just how slight Viv was compared to him, and it spurred him on further.  He gripped tightly and Viv squirmed at the onslaught, but he held her in place.

“Stop that!” she said, through choked laughter, “I’m ticklish!”

As if accepting a challenge, he tightened his grip and flicked a mandible at her unguarded, uncharacteristic reaction to his advance.  Viv’s squirming form in his lap was _doing things_ to him. And, if he were honest with himself—seeing Viv let down her guard for him made warmth swell in his chest in a way he hadn’t felt since he lost his mate all those years ago. 

Adrien loosened his grip and Viv sighed in relief, and while she was happy to have him halt, seeing this playful side to the almost _always_ business-minded Primarch made a smile creep across her dark features. 

They both shared a laugh and as their vocalizations subsided, the mood shifted back to that of _intent_ , _need_ , _want_.  His hand remained on her waist, though not in an effort to tease her once more—he loved the way her taut muscles danced, moving with an elegant grace that was distinctly _human_.  While he had experience with a human before, the one currently in his lap was an entirely different breed— new—in form and demeanor.  This woman small, standing at just over five feet, but she was a fighter, a warrior, determined—not a civilian that fetishized his people.  His respect for her was a tangible, overwhelming thing.

She rested both hands atop his cowl, letting her nimble fingers explore, all the while admiring its curved, strong form—recognizable even through the barrier of fabric that his tunic created.  At that, Adrien kept one hand on her waist while the other dipped lower; talons leaving goosebumps in their stead, as they moved over the thin cloth of her black N7 tank top; the action elicited a gentle shiver from Viv.  When his hand neared the top of her black night shorts, he paused to admire the jutting bone found here at her side.  Not the same as a turian’s hip spurs might feel, but it added a certain vague familiarity to her form that he appreciated.

To further explore his discovery, his hand shifted to push them hem of her tank top out of the way to find the spot that the waistband of her shorts was obscuring.  He let a talon slide under the top of her shorts, tracing the outline of bone before gripping that spot—his grip tightened, and Viv’s breathing quickened.

Adrien spared a glance down at his hand to witness the protrusion himself, before massaging the spot eagerly, his thumb fiercely probing that spot.  Viv sighed contentedly at that, and Adrien’s gaze shifted back to the eyes of the small human before him, as if silently begging for the offending fabrics she bore to disappear.

Viv read him without missing a beat, removing a hand from his cowl to grip the hem of her shirt to slide it up her torso and over her shoulders only to carelessly toss it across the room.  Adrien chuckled at the display, as she was usually all organized chaos—the discarded top seeming out of place on the floor of Viv’s otherwise immaculate cabin.

Having her bare herself before him borne a new intimacy altogether to their encounter.  Adrien purred at the sight of her—it shifted to a growl when Viv grasped his hand and rested it atop her modest breast.  The bralette she had on—straps crisscrossing in the front, a thin line of elastic trailing down and adorning her slim waist—slightly resembled turian lingerie that he found enticing; it intrigued him. It didn’t seem practical for daily wear, which caused another thought to creep through Adrien’s mind.  _Did she…?_

His thoughts were abruptly cut off, because as his hand explored the breast he held it on, Viv quietly sighed. Adrien felt the small bump beneath harden in reaction to his touch.

A mandible quirked in satisfaction and he asked, “What do I have to do to get _more_ of those sounds out of you?” His words were a subdued wisp, a challenge to himself.  Adrien was slowly losing control of the sounds his second larynx was making, but in that moment he couldn’t have cared less.

“Let me show you.” Viv said, tantalizingly slow and purposeful.  She started to stand up to remove herself from the embrace of Adrien’s—in comparison to hers—hulking form.  As she moved, his hands seemed reluctant to leave the flesh before him.  He had not reason to worry, however, as Viv clasped the hand that trailed down her body and started walking slowly, encouraging him to follow behind her—their contact never ceasing.

“Lay down.”  She demanded. 

Adrien obliged.

As he moved, however, Viv had the realization that her human bed may not have been suitable for the harsh physique of a turian.  Knowing that he had previous experience with at least one human, she asked, “Um…I really don’t want to pry here, but I have a logistics question.”

“What’s that?” He asked as he reached for her, subharmonics taking on a smug note of humor she often heard from Garrus, as if Adrien knew _exactly_ what she was about to ask.

“When you were with that human before, uh…did this happen in your bed or hers?” She inquired, a small hint of awkwardness played at her question, and all Adrien could do was crack a sly smile at Viv’s concern.

“Hers.” He offered, halting before delving into any further explanation.

“Okay.” Viv said, “But how is this supposed to uh… _work_?  I don’t want to you break a fringe spike, or something else, I might feel infinitely guilty about.”  She let out a nervous sort of laugh.

Adrien reached back without saying another word, grasping one of the large pillows resting atop her bed.  He laid back, resting said pillow above his cowl and beneath his fringe.  His feet were still resting on the floor, and Viv stepped forward and bent down, laying her hands atop his ropey, muscled thighs and peering down at him as she stood between his knees, examining the situation for any possible weaknesses; she called her battle-readiness to this situation like she did in all things.

“There.” Adrien said, _reassurance_ intoned in his vocalization.

“Are you sure?” She asked, still not entirely certain they had the logistics down.

“Quite.” He said, something like _impatience_ making itself known this time.

Viv still looked unsure, but Adrien smirked, sat up, and pulled her down on top of him.  This successfully abated the thoughts of his discomfort plaguing her mind, seemingly assured that this would be okay for the both of them.  Her train of thought was again confirmed as her knees settled on either side of his waist, gripping his torso firmly beneath her; the action earned her a rough growl, bellowing from the depths of his chest.  She felt the vibration hit her most sensitive spot through the thin fabric of her shorts settled overtop him, warmth growing low, so low, in her gut.

Adrien’s large, three-fingered hands settled on Viv’s sharp, protruding hip bones and she rocked forward slightly in an effort to elicit more pleasing sounds, and vibrations from him.  Her plan worked, and Adrien even more tightly gripped her and started encouraging her to slowly rock back and forth.  Some control lost, his hips lifted in time with the movements charged by his grip. 

Viv ran her hands down the broad expanse of Adrien’s plated chest, never ceasing the movement of her hips, allowing him to control the timing.  Her hands looked _tiny_ compared to the width of him, yet nothing about that made her feel uneasy.  If anything, Adrien’s size said _safety_ to her.

“I think you’re overdressed.” She whispered in his ear, leaning down as her hips continued shifting back and forth, back and forth at an agonizingly slow pace.

“I’d be inclined to agree.” Adrien stated as her hands trailed down to the hem of his tunic.  He batted them away, recalling the frustration at turian clothing Viv had expressed in retelling her encounter with Garrus.  She understood, and chuckled quietly, allowing him to remove the offending fabric that obscured her view—and her touch—for far too long.

He took his sweet time, though, and made eye contact with her as he undid every clasp, every button, every buckle on his top of light greys and dark blues.     _Damn turian_ , she thought, _he knows exactly what he’s doing to me right now_.  His pants left his body in quicker fashion, but not quick enough for Viv’s liking.

She groaned in impatience, closing her eyes and tilting her head back in frustration.  When she knew that he’d undone the fastenings, she yanked the garments from his grip, and threw them across the room to join her shirt. ~~~~

“Where were we?” She breathed, reassigning duties to her hands that did _not_ include fumbling embarrassingly with turian garments. 

“Right about…” Adrien stated, returning his grasp to her jutting hip bones, and unceremoniously pulling her down, flipping her over, and settling himself atop her so they were a pile of flesh and plates and heaving breaths.  “Here.”

Her eyes widened in surprise at the dominant display, but she submitted to Adrien’s will, his imposing body wrapped around her— heavy, needy and masculine.  He reached up and gripped both of her wrists in one hand, and trailed the other down her abdomen.  He was careful of his talons, but still allowed them to trail along the flesh here, leaving faint pink trails in their wake.

Viv started breathing yet heavier, liquid heat pooling between her thighs as the sharp tips hooked underneath the waistband of her shorts.  Without preamble, Adrien let his talons rip the cloth from her form—destroying both shorts and panties on one fell swoop.  She was once again reminded of their stark differences in species, but she didn’t care. 

This was a man who did not fear for breaking her, for treating her like some doll to behold.  He knew what she needed, and she him—he had lost control in his grief, and she was burdened with controlling the fate of the very galaxy in which they resided.  He needed to take over, and she needed to let go.

Now laying bare before him, save for the strappy bralette she still wore, Adrien inhaled deeply at the growing scent of Viv’s arousal.  She smelled something new, too—something akin to spices used in a mulled wine with the backdrop of something slightly metallic mingling with the spiced aroma.  _So fragrant_ , she thought.  Her senses were being assaulted from all directions, and she never wanted it to stop.

Adrien was quickly losing his internal battle with his pelvic plates, as they started shifting once he picked up her scent, _that_ scent, to relieve the swelling happening internally.  He slipped out partially, and Viv gazed down and took in the sight—big, blue, already lubricated, with small ridges on the underside.  Recalling her prior research, she thought that he would be bigger but those thoughts quickly flitted away as more and more of him emerged.  She was mildly concerned at the sight, concerned that her body might not be able to comfortably accommodate him.  But, they could worry about that and figure it out together later.

Adrien caught her gazing down at his slickened length, and he grinned in his handsome, toothy way. 

“Not yet,” He said, and after the words left his mouth he licked a trail from behind her ear, to her collarbone, to her breastbone, before his path was interrupted by the fabric of her bralette. 

“May I?” He asked.

“Hell, you destroyed my shorts and underwear.  Didn’t think you’d ask,” She quipped, her tone dripping with sarcasm and humor.  She didn’t mind the display, not really.

“Hmm.” he uttered, and without further ado, he bit down on the fabric, jerked his head back, and with a growl, shredded it from her body with his teeth.  This earned him a shocked gasp before he resumed his previous exploration.

Any fabric to speak of now out of the way, they lay bare before each other.  Each, in their stations of power, never showing this kind of vulnerability to anyone else.  Viv was here for him, as Adrien was for her, the ongoing war dulled to a steady backbeat. The one before them was all that mattered.

Adrien paused momentarily to admire the curving bones of her rib cage.  His eyes roved, before he tentatively tasted her here, letting his hand slide down over each bone.  Viv was reminded, yet again, by their differences, as his hand covered nearly the entire expanse of bone and flesh.  He nipped where the bone met the dip in her abdomen, the rumbling in his chest getting louder by the minute.

She reached down to caress his fringe, and just as her hand met it, it was abruptly grasped; Adrien removed it and planted it firmly on the mattress with a growl.

“Don’t move unless I tell you to.” He demanded by way of a low whisper, his hot breath on her ear, her neck. She gasped and nodded.

Viv felt the pulsing heat in her cunt intensify at his orders, at his display of dominance.  No man had so freely made requests of her in this context before, and she was willing to bend to whatever demands Adrien made.

“And, don’t make a _sound_ unless I tell you to.” He ordered after she gasped; she nodded again in response, careful to let no further vocalizations escape.

He resumed nipping and licking his trail down her stomach, lowering his gaze again to the protrusion of her hip.  He took a risk, and just after his tongue trailed over the spot, paused to bite down—not hard enough to pierce the flesh, but hard enough to test her resolve.  Impressively, Viv caught herself before she could let out a gratified moan.  Adrien saw in her eyes the struggle; he smirked, and she shook her head as if to say _spirits damned you_.

She gripped the sheets in an effort to maintain some semblance of control over her voice and movements.  She needed something to anchor herself, anything.  Especially once Adrien let his hand meander down to the junction of her thighs. 

Adrien let a fingertip brush over her swollen clit, admiring the tiny nub in acknowledgement of what he knew attentions here could do to her.  He pressed down in shallow circles, looking up to witness the sight before him.

Commander Shepard was writhing, struggling to keep herself silent for him. She was utterly and completely at his mercy.  Adrien loved having this control over her, and Viv loved not having to run the show _for once_ , no matter how infuriating some of these moments could be.

Her attempt at control was all the encouragement he needed to continue his endeavor. Adrien moved his thumb to her nub and teased her entrance with a knuckle—dipping in _slightly,_ and moving back out to slick her arousal over her wanting cunt. 

Viv was gripping the sheets so tightly that she feared ripping them herself, as it was getting exceedingly difficult to abide by Adrien’s commands.  She caught herself almost slipping up, but stopped herself with a stifled grunt—but just this sound was enough to make Adrien stop.

“What did I say, Viv?” He asked, his tone thick with arousal, and subharmonics going haywire as her name fell out of his mouth.

She lifted her head to look down at him, the frustration presented on her features.

“For every sound you make, I stop.” He said, “And if you’re quiet long enough for me to satisfy you, don’t come until I tell you to.  Are we clear?”

Viv nodded, and squeezed her eyes tight, lines of concentration forming around them.

Adrien grinned, and instead of returning his fingers to their task, flicked his mandibles against her inner thighs as he let his tongue roll out of his mouth to sample her flavor, pussy still coated from him smearing her hot liquids there before, as well as the increase in her over-aroused state.

She bit her lip so hard, the metallic flavor of her blood screamed like a banshee in her mouth as she stifled the groan that threatened to escape her throat.

Adrien knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he had no intentions of stopping.

His tongue roved over her, exploring every dip, every fold, every spot that tested Viv’s resolve.

 Her back arched off of the bed, and Adrien stopped everything.

“You humans never learn, do you?” He asked.

She looked down over her body at him through bleary eyes.

“When a good turian hears an order, he follows it,” He stated.

Viv closed her eyes again, and threw her head back, a single tear meandering down her face.

_I’m not a damn turian_ , she thought to herself.

She was holding back so much, that it made her eyes well up. 

It was the only release she was allowed.

“Maybe we should try something else,” He said slyly. 

His rough, plated body moved back over her own. Viv was flush and pink from the intensity of Adrien’s teasing, and he _loved_ seeing her like this.  Open, begging, _needy._ And it was all for him, presented before his intense amber eyes in a heated, trembling, mess. His heart started pounding as he gripped her leg and rested it over his hip spur, brushing against the sensitive hide of his waist in a way that further incited his need, the welcome sensations traveling directly to his pulsing length.

It took every ounce of will that he could draw up not to enter her in one, swift motion then—but she had disobeyed a direct order, and now she had to _pay_.

Viv had forgotten her earlier fears about his size, because now, all she could think about was for him to stop the damned teasing, and _fill her_ already.  But she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.  Adrien was merciless, and while some of these moments were an incredible battle of will, she loved every damned minute of it. Viv needed this more than she had realized, and it seemed as though Adrien had, too.  She cared about him, a great deal, she realized.  And if this was the one way that she could be there for him, help him through this—well, she felt honored that he chose _her_.  Her heart swelled at the thought, returning to the sensations firing missiles through her quivering body.

One thigh rested atop his hip spur, Adrien grasped the other one to mirror the first on the opposite, in the same show of determination that he exhibited when he first pulled Viv into his lap. 

“Now.  Do you remember your orders, Viv?” He asked, incredulously.  “I really hate having to repeat myself.”

She nodded, and Adrien gripped her wrists, firmly planting them on the mattress once more. 

He slid forward slightly, letting the tip of his blue, ridged cock slide against her entrance but, like his ministrations with his hands earlier, did not seat himself inside her.  She felt him pull back—a growl escaped his throat.

He lurched forward again, but only let his shaft stretch her slightly.  She bit back a moan, and almost whimpered when she didn’t feel him there anymore.  She was more determined, this time.

He seemed satisfied, and tilted himself forward once more—sliding nearly halfway in.

Viv let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“ _Spirits_.” He breathed, “So _wet_ , tight.  You will be the death of me, Viv.” He pulled out again. 

“Now breathe.” Adrien growled out softly.

She did as he commanded.

As she exhaled, he hilted himself inside her.

Viv’s pupils were blown, a sheen of sweat coated her flesh.  She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe deeply, but as Adrien started to move the task became exceedingly more difficult.  She needed to feel him, touch him, and she thought she might break the rules _just once_ , so she reached up and trailed her hands up his neck, finding that sensitive spot underneath his fringe once more. 

At that, Adrien didn’t protest.  At times, he wasn’t good at following orders either.  He allowed her this.

Finally having the ability to anchor herself to him, Viv started lifting her hips in time with Adrien’s thrusts, his pace growing more and more frantic.  He stretched her so satisfyingly, and she was surprised when she started to feel him swell up more, his member pushing against her inner walls as he started nearing his climax.

She was on the brink, but that was an order she was trying her best to follow.  She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out—the tears returned, her toes curled in, and the spring deep in her belly threatened to release.  And still, Viv held fast.

Adrien bent his head down, and grazed her neck with his teeth, fighting back the urge to mark her.  Though, he would never do that without expressed permission.  No, he wanted to indulge his predatory nature without permanently engraining it in Viv’s flesh.  Though, the thought of marking her nearly put him over the edge.

He flicked out a mandible against her neck as he released his hold and whispered in her ear, a sound that was almost entirely from his second larynx, and said, “Come for me, Viv.”

The spring was sprung; there was no going back.  Viv let out the triumphant moan that she had held back for too long, as her heat reached its peak, and its long tendrils ripped through her body.  Her pulsing wetness gripped Adrien’s cock as if to never let him go, and that was it for him, too.

His thrusts grew erratic as the swelling of his cock reached its maximum, pulsing against her walls in time with his release as her back arched off the bed.  He had never been so _in sync_ with another living thing in his life.  There was no coming back from this, not ever.

Adrien slowly retreated as his swell wore down, both he and Viv expressing their satisfaction in labored breaths.  He rolled off of her as his seed dripped down the inside of her leg.

They crawled up the bed and Adrien grabbed the long-forgotten pillow from earlier, resting it underneath his cowl. Viv followed suit in her efforts to get comfortable, not a difficult task given her over sensitized, sated body. Adrien reached his arm out so she could nestle against him—his keel making it difficult to find a suitable position, but not prohibitively so.

Adrien pulled her close, and dipped his forehead down to meet hers.

They said not a word as they closed their eyes, and that night, the nightmares didn’t come for either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> On tumblr @robinapril. Come say hi!


	4. Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans change, Viv and Adrien collaborate. 
> 
> This is where things start changing from canon, FYI.
> 
> NSFW.
> 
> Playlist updated: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXMCaj6Bjd9rM5aEs-whpaZmrh7alrdkn&disable_polymer=true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Characters owned by BioWare. I just make them do stuff to each other. 
> 
> Many thanks to ShudderShock for beta reading!

Viv awoke to the vibrations of a rumbling purr against her back.  She hadn’t drifted off for long, and the start with which she awoke was not only from being in her bed with the company of another, but also the overwhelming sense of dread she held in considering the political ramifications of a turian Primarch being caught in bed with a human commander.

It wasn’t the Normandy’s crew she was necessarily worried about. Wrex had a notoriously big mouth, and he’d been aboard in assisting with developing, planning, and carrying out the impending genophage cure.  Mordin was also assisting with the same, and at worst he would offer educational pamphlets and lectures about chafing—which he had done when the crew thought that she and Garrus would end up being a _thing_.  Viv let out a near silent snort at the thought.

_Shit_ , she thought to herself as she looked over at the turian sleeping soundly at her back, wrapping her tightly in his arms.  The night cycle was coming to an end, and while the last few hours had been some of the most satisfying and eye-opening of her life, she wanted to get him back down to his quarters without causing a ruse with the crew. 

She could just as easily resume her slumber, though.  He’d stayed longer than she had planned—at first, Viv had honestly thought that the encounter was going to be an ‘in and out’ thing.  _No pun intended_ , she thought to herself.  She hadn’t expected the emotional weight she now bore to nearly crush her chest, and she didn’t really know what to do with that.

Viv knew just as well as Adrien that neither of them could— _should_ —make promises.  They realized their affections for each other, and she was willing to explore that if he was.  _After the war_ , being the operative in this situation.  This was no time to be causing political hardships when alliances were already so fragile, and some hard feelings still resounded throughout the galaxy’s human and turian colonies about the First Contact War.  While many were over the losses and strife of that era, others were still exceedingly good at holding grudges, and they needed all the help they could get. 

Viv didn’t need this getting to Alliance brass, because public image—in a way—was almost as important as tangible assets were.  Adrien must have felt her tense up as a result of her musings, because he gripped her tighter, enveloping her slight form in his much larger one.

“You were incredible, Viv.”  Adrien drowsily murmured as his chin rested atop her head, the rumbling in his chest getting louder with fondness; with desire for this fierce, tiny, human woman in his arms.

“You were too, but…” She started to stay affectionately with a hint of something sad pulling at her voice, but he stopped her.

“But, you need me to get back down to my quarters to avoid the wrong eyes seeing us leave your cabin together, causing a political uproar, and damaging our station in the war?” Adrien stated, a half question in his tone, reading her mind perfectly.

Viv sighed.  “Yes.”

“I can’t say the same hasn’t crossed my mind, but hear me out.”  Adrien asked of her, the tactical expert in him called to the situation.

Viv shifted her body to more directly face him, still wrapped in his arms but propping herself up to avoid the protrusion of his keel.  She laid her hand on his chest as she stopped her mind’s wandering, giving him her full attention.

Adrien continued, “Both humans and turians have a storied past, this is no secret.  And neither of us can pretend that every member of our respective species have let go of their animosity over the handling of that unfortunate and poorly approached situation.”

Viv quirked an eyebrow, feeling already where he was taking this.  While she was first a soldier, her interstellar dealings of the last several years had borne a diplomat in the warrior’s midst.  He had a plan, and if it was what she thought it was—she had no reason not to be on board.

“However,” Adrien said, “do you not think that a public alliance of one of the Hierarchy’s Primarchs and the Alliance’s star commander and the first human Spectre to boot, would bolster morale among those who have let go of the Relay 314 incident and all that followed?”

Viv thought carefully about the next words she chose to emit, brow furrowed in contemplation. 

“So, are you saying that we stroll out of here, wave the ‘we fucked each other last night’ flag proudly, and hope for the best?” she asked, nervousness in her tone.  “I don’t regret what we did, but I feel like that might be a little _bold_ , Adrien.  We don’t even know what _this_ is yet.”

“I do.” He said, tone steadfast.  “After _that_?  I don’t know that I could want or need for anything else, Viv.  That hasn’t happened since…”

“What hasn’t happened, Adrien?”  She interrupted him with a smirk and a raised brow, knowing exactly where he was going with his line of reasoning, but she wanted to hear him _say it_.

Adrien sighed, giving in.  “When we finished together, you terrible vixen.  That was the purest connection I’ve felt with _anyone_ since my mate, and there have been quite a few, I’ll add.  I don’t know that I could return affections to another after that.  If you decided you didn’t want this, then I could certainly _try_.  But I’m not hopeful.”

Viv closed her eyes as her chest overflowed with warmth for this strange turian in her bed.  She reached her hand up to the soft spot beneath his fringe, and gave him a little rub there; he closed his eyes and gave in and let his forehead drop to meet hers. 

Over the sound of Adrien’s reverberating purr, Viv said, a quiet almost-whisper, “Okay.”

Adrien gripped her waist and pulled her close, and Viv continued, “I say, we don’t go waiving this around. We shouldn’t draw unnecessary attention to ourselves, and _this_.” She motioned between the two of them with her free hand, and then said, “But, I am also on board with not overtly _hiding_ it.  Does that work for you?”

Adrien opened his eyes, let out a quiet hum in contemplation, and said “Yes.”

At that, Viv leaned in and planted a kiss to his mouth plates and she removed her hand from behind his fringe, trailing it down his face to trace his prominent right mandible.  Adrien reciprocated in the best way he knew how; it was a chaste kiss, not the needy attack like the night before.  It was a pledge, a promise.  A promise that Viv _knew_ she shouldn’t be making, but a promise nonetheless.

Their faces parted and Viv said, “Well.  I don’t know about you, but I am in desperate need of a shower before we head down there.” 

She lifted the covers and grimaced as she looked down at her thighs, Adrien’s seed dried and caked between her legs—they didn’t have the energy to clean up last night, and she was paying the price for that this morning.  The backs of Viv’s thighs also felt slightly raw, no doubt a result of his plates meeting the soft flesh of her legs.  She reached into the nightstand and pulled out some medigel. 

“Here.” Adrien said, taking the container from her.  He flipped the covers off of her body, and encouraged Viv to roll over.  He squeezed some of the gel into his hand, and gently smoothed it over her back side. 

“Hmm.” Viv hummed, the relief instant “Much better.” The smile she bore could be heard through her words.

Adrien’s hands started exploring more, his hum growing louder as his hands slid down her ass and the backs of her thighs, gently squeezing and prodding the firm expanse of her skin.

“If you don’t stop that, we’re never getting out of this bed,” Viv groaned, distractedly.

“And that’s supposed to encourage me to stop?” Adrien asked, his needy rumble growing louder.

“We have a genophage to cure,” Viv stated as she got her bearings and sat up, effectively halting Adrien’s ministrations.

She laid out her uniform and grabbed a towel, heading toward her shower.  “But, you can join me if you want.”  Viv said seductively as her voice grew husky, motioning toward her bathroom with her head.

Adrien needed no further encouragement.

Almost comically, he leapt from the bed and made his way to Viv, his stride long and pace quick, as she entered her bathroom and flipped on the water, piping hot—just the way she liked it.

They both stepped under the water as much as the cramped space would allow. Viv wet her hair and started lathering shampoo into her dark tresses.  Adrien could really only rinse off—not a chance that Viv would have turian cleaning tools and products at her disposal.  He made a mental note of that to remedy later; he’d need to bring up his brushes and scrubs, since they planned to continue this coupling.

Content that he was rinsed off as best he could be, he drew his attention to the short, muscular woman before him.  Adrien took the bottle of conditioner out of her hands and squeezed some out into his own, affectionately coating her wet hair with the thick substance.  Viv reached up and braced her hands against the tiles of the shower wall; she hummed, and closed her eyes as Adrien’s talons scraped her scalp, massaging her.

Sharing a moment like this, Adrien mused, was incredibly intimate for turians.  Showering was one thing, but preening and grooming were generally off limits to casual partners. He was serious about this, however, which was why he so welcomed the gesture.  He wasn’t sure if Viv knew the importance of such an invitation.  _Later_ , he thought to himself.

Adrien halted his musings, returning his attentions to the beautiful warrior before him, bare of any inhibitions. Uncertain of how Viv would feel about him washing her body, Adrien didn’t interrupt her when she pulled her hands back from the wall, grabbing a loofah to cleanse her skin.  She was quick about it though, moving at a harried pace as she worked the lather over her pale flesh.

Viv rinsed off, still keeping the conditioner in her hair to let it sit for maximum efficacy.  Confident that she was mostly done with her routine, Adrien gripped her shoulders with his large, taloned hands, turning her to face him.

He didn’t say anything, though.  Adrien and Viv took a moment to stare at each other; her large green orbs studying his amber, hawk-like eyes.  She had the crane her neck up significantly to make eye contact, and he tilted his head down in an effort to do the same.

“You are so beautiful.”  Viv stated, her hands roved up his chest and she occasionally paused to gently massage the gaps in plating her fingers danced across.

This earned her a comforting rumble, and Adrien said as his subharmonics went haywire, “Beauty doesn’t come close to the right word to describe you, Viv.  But it’s the best I’ve got.”

Viv’s skin started taking on a darker shade of red; she was already blushed from the heat of the water, but her heart was pounding fiercely, blood rushing to her groin as he spoke.  The tones in his voice, while she couldn’t fully comprehend their meaning, were causing reactions in her body that she’d never felt before.  This was so _new_ , and she wanted to learn all of it.  _I hope we have the time_ , she sadly thought to herself as her eyes continued to rove over his large, plated form.

“If not for the language barriers and your inefficient human ears,” Adrien joked, and continued, “I’d be able to tell you in every tone, rumble, and sound.  Alas, beauty must suffice for now.”

She wanted to hold onto that feeling for as long as she could; Viv reached up and planted her hands on his cowl as Adrien started nudging her toward the wall until she was flush with it, water still beating down on them as steam filled the bathroom.

Viv hoisted herself up, gripping Adrien’s small, sensitive waist between her thighs as his hands came to her backside, talons nearly puncturing but coming just shy.  He felt her slickened heat press against him, and growled.

She wrapped her arms around his neck to anchor herself, bringing one hand up to massage the sensitive spot beneath his fringe.  The spiced, metallic smell from their initial encounter returned and as Viv recognized it, he must have picked up on her scent too—the tones coming from his chest familiar, the rumble intensifying.

His pelvic plates had shifted and he was already out of his sheath, displaying not nearly the level of control he had over their previous encounter.  The affection, the tenderness, the decision not to actively hide what they had—Adrien wanted nothing more than to be one with her, his heart nearly bursting from his chest.

“Are you ready for me?” He growled out softly into Viv’s ear.

She nodded, breathing heavily as she did so.

Viv lowered herself slightly, hooking her thighs over his hip spurs as Adrien positioned his cock at her warm, wet entrance.  He pushed in, and gave her a moment to adjust.  She breathed heavier still, chest heaving as she felt Adrien hilt himself, and it was the best thing she’d ever felt; a sensation just on the precipice of pain, but shy enough of it as to not be unpleasant. 

His ridges hit sensitive spots she didn’t know she had, and they looked each other directly in the eyes as he started to move; slow and tentative at first, and then he snapped his hips so hard that Viv gasped—the waves of sensation sending shocks from her core to the rest of her extremities.

Adrien pulled out slowly after this, drove back in—slow but fierce—and Viv moaned loudly.  He repeated this a few more times before he snapped his hips again, shocks of pleasure careening through Viv’s body with unrelenting force.

Her reactions were pushing him in ways he simply didn’t think he could be _pushed_.  Adrien braced one hand on the wall after removing it from her backside, slight trails of blood dripping down as he moved his talons from her skin.  _I’ll apologize for that later_ , he thought briefly.  He adjusted his other arm to support her as he braced the other one against the wall for leverage.

And as he caught the scent of iron, the predator in him came through.  Adrien started pounding into her, Viv’s moans interrupted by his thrusts, turning into sharp gasps.

The scent of her blood, the feel of his length wrapped in her tight cunt, the _sounds_ coming out of this creature, this— _marvel_ —Adrien’s slick member started swelling as every sense he had was ignited, and Viv started to climax as he pressed against her walls.

Viv’s vision was all steam, amber eyes, and razor-sharp teeth.  The fear she should have felt was replaced with intent, desire, affection—this turian had stolen her heart, and she never wanted him to release it from his grip.

“Fuck.” Viv breathed, Adrien bent his head down to graze his teeth to the thick muscle between her neck and shoulder, still fighting back that same urge to mark her from the night before.  _Not yet_ , he thought.

Adrien felt her pulsing, moaning loudly as the sensations of release came.  He followed suit in Viv’s ecstasy, slowing his movements as his cock swelled and he erupted inside her.  They breathed heavily, looking each other in the eyes as they started coming down.  Adrien hummed, as did Viv, and they both closed their eyes, and their foreheads met as the water began to cool.

He pulled himself out and lowered Viv so she could rinse her hair before the temperature became intolerably cold.  Adrien helped her wipe his seed from her thighs, and she turned off the water once Viv was satisfied in her cleanliness.

“I think you’ve made an addict out of me, Viv,” Adrien said, breathy and exasperated—his subharmonics seemed to take on a calmed note; she’d heard that one before.

“No complaints here either.”  Viv smiled at him as she dried off and got dressed, preparing to take on the day.  Adrien dried off as well, seeking out his clothes in a heap in front of her aquarium.

Adrien spared a glance at her before she put her underthings on, noticing the small gashes in her backside from the ferocity of his grip.

“Spirits, I am so sorry.”  Adrien apologized as he walked over to her night stand to grab the container of medigel he’d used to smooth over the backs of her thighs prior. 

“I’m not.”  She stated.  Before he could get some of the gel into his hands, Viv stopped him.

“Leave it.”  She commanded.  Adrien’s heart swelled as he returned the medigel to her night stand.

They donned their garments in quiet, Viv thinking to herself—Adrien seemingly doing the same.

She broke the silence, “So how do we go about this?  I mean, we’re not intentionally keeping this a secret.  But what do we tell them when we get down there, you know…together?”

Adrien thought for a moment. 

“We say nothing.”  He stated. Continuing, Adrien said “Let them talk.  We get to watch them _squirm_. Inevitably, given your quite _meddlesome_ crew, someone _will_ ask.   And then, we tell them.  Let’s just have our fun with them first.”

Viv laughed, and said “After Joker forwarded me a terabyte of human-turian porn to try to _help me_ nail Garrus?  You’ve got yourself a deal, _Primarch_.”  The tilt in her voice at his title was thick.

He nodded, and said simply “ _Commander_.”  It was an affirmation that it was now business as usual; they both walked forward and exited her cabin, calling for the elevator to deliver them to the crew deck.  Adrien needed to get fresh clothes from his quarters, and Viv desperately needed some coffee.

Unfortunately, they were not alone when they arrived.

“Primarch,” Garrus nodded, “Commander.”  He flicked a mandible in a knowing smirk.

Shepard gave Garrus a _look_ that said _don’t even_.

The Primarch looked between the both of them.

“Not a word,” Garrus said, a teasing note in his subharmonics.  “What’s the human phrase, my lips are sealed?”

“Appreciate it, big guy.”  Shepard said, affectionately.

“One thing though.”  Garrus said, grabbing his mug of kava and taking a sip. “Wrex will smell you guys from a _mile_ away.  Not sure how you plan to handle that.” 

_Smug bastard_ , Shepard thought as she shook her head from side to side, indignant.

“Well.”  Adrien said, “I am remiss in my shortsightedness, I will admit.”

The three of them burst out in laughter.

“Guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it then, huh _Primarch_?”

“I suppose you’re right.”  Adrien had humor in his voice. 

“Commander, I need to get some things from my quarters and meet with our Reaper advisor,” Adrien gestured toward Garrus as he spoke, “I would like to catch up later, however.  Notify me when you become available?”

“Of course.”  Shepard smiled and nodded at him as they parted for their duties.

 

\---

 

Shepard poured herself a cup of strong black coffee to take with her as she made her rounds.  Her first stop was to check in with Mordin and Eve who were nearing the final synthesis of the genophage cure.  As soon as the cure was completed, they were to distribute it to the atmosphere of Tuchanka using the Shroud constructed years prior by the salarians. 

It was a seamless plan; they knew what to do—get in, and get out.  Lost lives could hopefully be kept to a minimum, and the fresh start it would provide the krogan tugged at her heart.  _They deserve this so much_ , Shepard thought to herself.  She considered them a brash race for so long. But after working side by side with Wrex, being Grunt’s Battlemaster and krantt, and now getting to know the first female krogan she’d had the opportunity to meet?  She realized that galactic perception of the race was far from accurate; this was a chance to turn that around, to alter their trajectory. 

Wrex was at the helm of leadership heading into this, and while many krogan did not necessarily see eye to eye with him about where his priorities lay for the future, there were many more who _did_.  Once the genophage was cured, once the Reapers were defeated—this was an opportunity for them to start anew.  Shepard wanted nothing more than to give them that chance.  She trusted Wrex not to repeat the mistakes of the past—she may not have felt the same with someone else leading the charge.

She entered the med bay.

“Eve, Mordin.” Shepard greeted them, “How’s everything?  We getting close?”

“Very,” Mordin said, “Have final preparations to make, must get additional samples from Wrex.  Run tests.  Should not be much longer.”

“That’s great news!”  Shepard’s excitement was palpable; in the midst of this war, a chance to make something right that had been wrong for too long was a victory that she already felt, however preemptive that feeling may have been.  Not only would this move secure the human-turian alliance for Earth, but it would also secure an alliance between the krogan and the turians—their tumultuous past dating back far before humans were even on the scene. The salarians may have created the genophage, but the turians distributed it.  It was a chance to make things right, on several fronts—no matter how overdue.  Shepard hoped it would all go off without a hitch.

“Don’t get too excited yet, Commander.”  Eve spoke up, dismay clear in her voice.

“Uh oh,” Shepard uttered, “Something I should know about?”

“Was going to wait,” Mordin started, “Now as good a time as ever, perhaps.”

“Spill it.”  Shepard ordered both of them. 

Eve started, “After the ninth platoon deactivated the bomb to keep Cerberus from detonating it, the data their team collected during their stay was recovered by EDI.  The Shroud had been used for regulating Tuchanka’s atmosphere to mitigate the effects of nuclear winter, brought on by the krogan’s destruction and carelessness.”  Eve had regret in her voice as she spoke.

“Found irregularities,” Mordin interrupted, “Toxins, unknown.  Had Comm Specialist Traynor do scans from orbit, have bad news.”

“Get to the point, Mordin.”  Shepard ordered, impatience in her tone. 

“Shroud emitting strange toxins, none recognized.”  Mordin informed, the speed in his speech quickening.  “Got sample from probe, ran test.  Reaper presence.”

Eve explained further, “We have detected abnormal toxins being pumped into the atmosphere using the Shroud.  The toxins are from a different kind of Reaper, one I’m not sure you and yours have dealt with yet.  When we looked into it, we found that there is a Reaper presence stationed precisely where we need to be.”

“Hoped that was not case,” Mordin said, regretfully.  “New precautions, must come up with alternate plan.  Can still use Shroud, but must destroy Reaper to deliver cure.  Wanted to wait until cure was complete before suggesting strategy, may be better now.  Hopeful not to distress crew, however. Situation delicate, tensions high. Wrex will not be happy, must advise new plan.”

Shepard thought to herself for a moment before speaking up, “So, what are you suggesting, Mordin?  Eve, you have any ideas?”

“None yet,” Eve started, “But, we have sent this data along, with the rest collected, to the Primarch.  We were hoping he might have some ideas, or uncover something that we may not have yet seen.  From what we understand, he has an eye for such things.”

“Hopeful this is case, Commander.”  Mordin interjected, “Suggest meeting with Primarch and Reaper advisor, may develop plan.”

“Appreciate the heads-up, Mordin.”  Shepard thanked him as she took a sip of her coffee. “Has the Primarch had a chance to go over the data yet?”

“Not sure, Commander.” Eve stated, “He has a meeting scheduled with Garrus this morning to discuss the state of the Reaper situation on Palaven. But, Mordin has made sure that he has access to this data— as well as the rest that was removed by his son’s unit.  I’m thinking he was reluctant to look. Probably still raw.  But we’re running out of time, so maybe yourself and Garrus can meet with him, and try to come up with something.  We’re counting on you, Commander.”

“I hope I don’t let you down.”  Shepard’s pledge to her was almost mournful, troubled.  She’d not been expecting this sort of roadblock, and she felt her heart sink at the thought.  _Hell or high water, we’re getting this done_ , she reminded herself.

Shepard walked toward the med bay doors to leave, but was quickly stalled by Mordin.

“Shepard, you have a moment?” Mordin asked, “Medical matters, would like to discuss.”

Shepard groaned, _deja vu,_ she thought to herself.

“What is it, Mordin?”  She asked; her inquiry was an exasperated sigh.

“Aware mission is stressful, with new information now even more so,” he stated, continuing. “Aware you have no dextro-amino allergy, but must still warn of chafing.  Advise precautions, have sent care package to your cabin.” 

The grin on his face was enough to make Shepard want to grab him by the horns, and shake the salarian’s smug smile right off.

She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut all the while.

“I appreciate the concern, Mordin—but I think we can figure it out on our own.”  Shepard was having none of it.

“Have total faith, Commander.”  Mordin said, still grinning. “Wanted to help.  Like Primarch, much like you, Shepard.  Good match.  Wanted to help, maximize mutual satisfaction.”

Eve snickered from the other side of the room where she was seated atop one of the beds.

“Uhhh…thanks, I guess?” 

Mordin just bowed his head as she exited, and Shepard saw him and Eve share a smile and a laugh through the windows as she passed.

Shepard couldn’t help but smile to herself as she called up EDI.

“EDI, do you have a twenty on Primarch Victus, and Adviser Vakarian?”

“Primarch Victus and Adviser Vakarian are in the war room, Commander.” EDI’s voice rang out, disembodied—her physical form was camped out with Joker in the cockpit, as per usual.

“Thanks, EDI.” 

“Of course, Shepard.”

Shepard poured herself more coffee in the mess, before heading to the elevator to go meet with the two turians, hoping she wasn’t interrupting one of their intense strategy meetings.  _Nerds_ , she pondered.

As she walked, she felt a pang of pain on her backside and fought back a grimace; the grimace was quickly taken up by a smile, recollecting the source of her discomfort.  She liked carrying around those little reminders of their passion; nothing about it was burdensome—though, she hadn’t tried sitting yet.  That thought made Shepard chuckle to herself, and feelings of affection started bubbling in her stomach as she made her way to the war room to meet with the Primarch and Garrus, his trusted adviser.

“Commander.”  The Primarch drawled out the word, warmth in his subharmonics. Garrus just rolled his eyes—a nuance of human communication he’d picked up on in working around them for so long.

Shepard winked at Garrus, greeting the Primarch in return.

“Primarch,” Shepard nodded and smiled, “Do you two have a minute?  Some important intel on Tuchanka was just brought to my attention, and I’d like to go over it with you. Is now a good time?”

“Certainly, Commander.”  Victus started, “We were just finishing up.  What can we do for you?”

“Have you had the chance to review the data we extracted after our last run on Tuchanka?”  Shepard asked, bracing her hands on the railing as she stood between the two turians.

“Some, not at depth though,” Victus said, “Garrus, how about you?”

“Other than the irregular atmospheric signatures, just the usual about Kalros.” Garrus said, continuing, “Nothing to make me too wary, at least not until the rest of the data is interpreted.  Why, did Mordin come up with something?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”  Regret was prevalent in her tone as she spoke, “Reaper signatures, conveniently right outside of the Shroud’s structure.  According to Mordin, the Reaper is using the Shroud to put some toxin in the air.  We have to take it out before we can even _think_ about distributing that cure which, might I add, is almost complete. We have to think fast.”

“This…changes things.”  Victus said, thoughts flitting through his mind.  He bowed his head in concentration.

“You mentioned Kalros?  Who, or _what_ , in the hell is that?”  Shepard asked, begging an answer from either of the two turians standing there.

Garrus started, “Mother of all thresher maws.  Nice extra wrench in the gears, huh?  Apparently, the ninth platoon came across burrows while they were trying to get to the bomb.  They didn’t come into contact with the maw, but its presence was certainly known.”

“Wait a minute,” the Primarch uttered upon realization.  “That maw has been running rampant on Tuchanka for _years_ , for as long as my history books have shown.  It caused problems way back when we were trying to distribute the genophage, according to texts.”

“Go on.” Shepard said, both she and Garrus giving the Primarch their full attention.

“The salarians designed hammers to draw it away— to keep it off of the ground teams trying to build the structure.  The turians helped in its construction and it worked to draw it away.”

Shepard thought on what the Primarch said for a moment, then she asked, “You think we can pull the Reaper away from the structure using those hammers?  Will that work?”

“Not quite.” Victus had a conspiratorial look in his eyes, “We put the hammers to a different purpose.  This maw, this _Kalros_ , is _massive_.  I think we can use those hammers to draw Kalros to the Reaper.  They are comparable in size, and if we can use the maw to incapacitate the Reaper, the maw will likely be neutralized in the scuffle.  I think, with some planning, we can take them both out, and then deliver the cure.”

The shock on Garrus’ face was priceless.  “That sounds like something you’d come up with, Shepard.  I’m not sure I like where this is going.  I’m all for crazy plans, but this is just _insane_.”

 Shepard could only smile at the two turians, as the glow reached her bright green eyes.  She said, “Alright, Primarch.  You come up with a plan, bring it to me so I can inform the ground team.  This is a longshot, but I think it’s the best we’ve got.  You in, Garrus?”

“You two are insane.  Clearly, made for each other.”  He chuckled, shaking his head from side to side and continued, “If we can find a way to make this work, I don’t think we have a choice.  I’m in.”

“Thadda boy.”  Shepard commended with a smile, then clapped him on the shoulder.

Victus and Shepard shared a nod, before she turned on her heel to continue making her rounds.

 

\---

 

Viv arrived back to her cabin that night, glad to strip off the commander face and wind down before the next mission.  It was already shaping up to be tense, and with this new caveat thrown in—there was a lot on her mind.

 She grabbed a glass and poured herself some bourbon—neat—as she changed into her night shorts and top, ready to let the day wash away as the comfortable warmth from the alcohol meandered through her body. 

EDI came over the comm, “Shepard, Primarch Victus is outside of your cabin.  Should I let him in?”

“Of course, EDI.  The Primarch is always welcome up here.”

“Certainly, Commander.”  EDI had a teasing note in her feminine, robotic voice.  Viv just smiled and took another sip.

Adrien entered her cabin with a duffel bag in tow, no doubt to come better prepared than the night before.  She grinned at his assumption that she’d let him stay the night—she would, but she planned on giving him a hard time for being presumptuous; _must be eager_ , she thought.

“Planning on staying a while, _Primarch_?”  She chided, humor in her tone.

“If it’s all the same to you, _Commander_ , I’d hate for a repeat performance of this morning’s scramble.”  Adrien drawled out, “It is quite unbecoming of a Primarch to show up for duty with wrinkles in his garb.  I’m sure you understand.”

“Uh huh.”  Shepard sat her glass down and stood up to make her way to Adrien, reaching her hands up to his cowl to pull him into the human version of a kiss. 

He rumbled affectionately in return, grasping her waist with both hands, enveloping her.

They shared a quiet moment as Viv let her head rest against his chest as her eyes closed, thinking briefly to herself.  And like a collision, it hit her.  She left his arms and grabbed a notepad—an actual paper notepad—from the drawer of her desk and began frantically scribbling words down, feverish in her pace.

“Viv, are you okay?”  Adrien’s concern wove through his dual-toned voice.

“Quite.” Viv rushed to speak; she scribbled down a few more words, and threw the notepad back into her drawer.

“What was that all about?”  Adrien asked, markedly confused—his vocalizations revealing as much.

“I used to write, before Mindoir, before all of this.”  Viv started to explain, “And I just had an idea for a story that I want to tell.  It’s a good one, I think you’ll like it.”

“What is it?”  Adrien asked her; browplates furrowing.

“I’ll tell you, _hell_ —you can even read it yourself.”  Viv said, “After we win this war.”

Love flooded out of the purr he couldn’t contain.  Viv walked back to the table, and finished her bourbon, motioning for Adrien to follow her into bed.  He stripped, and Viv did the same.  They both wordlessly fitted themselves under the covers, and drifted off into dreamless sleep once again as they held each other into the night.


	5. Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations, briefings, and another wrench in the gears.
> 
> NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things really break away from the canon telling of events here. Many of the same things will happen from here on out, but our favorite Primarch will have a far larger role in the way they play out. Fair warning :)
> 
> Playlist updated: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXMCaj6Bjd9rM5aEs-whpaZmrh7alrdkn&disable_polymer=true
> 
> Characters owned by BioWare. I just make them do stuff to each other.
> 
> Thanks so much to ShudderShock for beta reading!

Nerves plagued Viv’s first waking moments; slight night sweats from her slumber coating her skin—today was the day.  The genophage, one of the galaxy’s longest reigning _wrongs_ was about to be made _right_.  

In her heart, she knew she was doing the just thing—but she couldn’t stop thoughts to the contrary running through her mind. What if Wrex was somehow removed from his leadership role? What if Clan Urdnot somehow succumbed to the influence of another?  Who _knows_ what the krogan might do—so many with a thirst for revenge, and some would most certainly seek to quench it.

However, Viv was aware, that the _what ifs_ should not influence her decisions. Her quest to bring the long feuding races together to take up arms against the biggest threat the Milky Way had ever faced took precedence over any self-doubts, or imagined assumptions.  No, she _had_ to do this— _needed_ to do this.  No matter what, that genophage was getting cured _today_.

Fortunately, Adrien was a brilliant strategist. With him at the helm with her, and with the assistance and confidence of her best friend along for the ride as well, Viv felt damn near invincible. Aside from her understandable nervousness about the future implications of the cure, she felt good, and ready. 

Viv’s alarm sounded, though she’d been awake before it called to her.  At the noise, Adrien stirred and greeted her with a nuzzle to her neck.

“You’re nervous.” Adrien’s first words of the morning were matter of fact.

“A little.” Viv turned on her side to face him at the utterance.

“It’s understandable.”  Adrien started, “And I would be lying if I said that a certain amount of anxiety didn’t bely my feelings as well.  But, the turians need the krogan.  The humans need the turians.  And, the salarians can get back into the krogans’ good graces, with Mordin’s help.  We’re doing the fair thing, Viv.”

“Hmm.”  Viv thought for a brief moment before resuming, “I know, and I get all of that.  But what if something happens to Wrex?  Have you _heard_ about his brother Wreav?  I guess I’m just scared that someone like that will step into power, and then all of this will have been for nothing.  I just…I don’t know, Adrien.  As much as I look forward to a future without the Reapers, that same future also _terrifies_ me. I just need to hear that I’m doing what truly needs to be done.”

“You are.”  Adrien confirmed, “Completely.  Don’t let fear guide your choices.  It’s a very real risk, but as you’ve said before—can’t let the ‘what ifs’ cause you to make a call that you’d regret.”  _Reassurance_ intoned his vocalizations. 

Adrien, in all his years of service to the turian Hierarchy, had made many tough calls—calls that were often grating to those with standard sensibilities of the _correct_ calls to make.  Garrus had not been wrong in saying that Adrien was one to play ‘fast and loose’ with strategy.  It had served him well in the past, though, and his hope was that this time would be no different. Viv and Adrien laid together silently; just enjoying the warm embrace of the other. Adrien broke the silence with a quiet, dual-toned laugh.

“You know, I do find it humorous that you’re more nervous about the potential, improbable future than you are about taking down a Reaper with a thresher maw.”

Viv laughed in response and said, “I think disregard for conventional wisdom is one thing we have in common, Adrien.  If I would’ve connected the dots about Kalros and the hammers, I probably would have come up with the same thing.  Alas, some smug turian beat me to the punch.”

“And who might that turian be?”  Adrien seductively purred.

“Hmm, I don’t know.”  Her tone was teasing. “He’s tall, has these beautiful amber eyes.  Mandibles that would make any girl’s heart melt.  You’ve probably seen him around.” 

A smile grew on her face; soft rumbles vibrated through Adrien’s upper body—they helped abate Viv’s nerves.  She brought her hand up to the side of his face, tracing down a mandible with gentle fingertips.

Adrien flicked a smile against her palm and continued making soothing sounds; Shepard closed her eyes and just _felt_.

When she broke the silence, she asked him “Are you doing that on purpose?”

“Mhmm.”  Adrien confirmed, “Didn’t think it’d work, but it seems to be.  You feeling better?”

“Yeah, I am.”  Shepard replied, “The noises?”

“We use it to calm our young, or loved ones in distress.”  He started, “Didn’t know if it would work on a human or not, but thought it was worth a try.  Effect is probably stronger with a turian, obviously, but I’m glad it’s helping.  If only a small amount.”

“You really are a great guy to have around, Adrien.”  Shepard stated with an affectionate pat to his chest, “I mean that.”

“Let me prove it to you.”  Adrien challenged, in a low growl that was thick with sound from his second larynx.

He started to unwrap himself from the tangle of naked arms and legs that they were in.  He gripped Viv’s hip and encouraged her to lay flat on her back.  When he pulled his hand back, he took his time and traced it up to and over her collarbone with a talon, running it over her skin along the way.  Adrien laid his hand down and moved to position himself over her.

He didn’t stay there, though.  Adrien nipped and licked his way down her torso, stopping just to nuzzle each protruding hip bone with pure adoration readable on his face. 

“I love these.” Adrien’s praise made Viv blush.  She could only look down at him and smile.

He took his time moving his hands down her body before slipping them under her thighs and spreading her legs apart.  Adrien laid his head on her open thigh and looked up at her, briefly to enjoy the state of vulnerability that he had her in.  She knew, too; he could read it in her eyes.

What spoke almost as loud as that notion of vulnerability, however, was _trust_.  She trusted him, and Adrien wasn’t going to let her down—not in this, not in _anything_.

He tore his gaze away from Viv’s face to take in the other sight before him; the soft, glistening folds begging for his attention.  Adrien smelled her need and felt himself start to swell, his plates loosening; but controlled it as best he could—this was for _her_.  He could wait.

Adrien wrapped his arm around her upper thigh and over her pelvis until he was able to reach his thumb down to Viv’s clit.  He gently prodded there; he wanted to make Viv’s breath hitch and quicken—he loved it when she made those sounds for him. 

Once Adrien was content in the response he was getting from her, he brushed a mandible against the inside of her leg before nipping and tasting his way up to her entrance.  He paused to tease her slit with his tongue, barely entering her, before he removed his face and licked and nipped his way up the other thigh. 

This time, though—he didn’t tease.

Adrien rubbed Viv’s clit in slow circles as he pushed his tongue inside and dragged it against the upper wall of her pussy as he pulled out; pausing at the small rough patch he found inside.

Viv gasped; the shocks from him hitting _that spot_ sending jolting waves through her body.

Adrien pushed back in, prodding that spot with his tongue again, and when he brought his tongue back out he swept it up her folds, then back down before plunging in again; never stopping the motions of his thumb against her swollen nub.

Viv gripped the sheets, but Adrien reached over with his free hand and gripped hers; five fingers in three.

The additional contact filled Viv’s chest with warmth, and she started to feel herself climax.

Adrien felt her wetness increase; her heat intensify.

She started losing control of her hips, thrusting them up toward Adrien’s mouth, but he held her still.

He thrust his tongue in as far as it could go, as he quickened the motions he applied to her clit.

That did her in.

Viv started panting as Adrien felt the walls of her cunt tighten and release around his tongue.  He moved it in and out to the beat of her pulses, helping her ride out the comedown.

Viv released the hold she had on the sheet and brought it to her brow, wiping the sweat off her forehead while she tightened her grip on Adrien’s hand with her free one.

“Your turn.”  She said, voice husky.

“When we get back. We’ll celebrate.”  Adrien replied, stopping her, “This was for you.”

“Come on, I like taking care of you.”  She coaxed.

“I guess I’m going to have to make you wait for it then.”  Adrien’s response was final; he spoke in a tone that said he wouldn’t bend.

Viv just answered with mock scorn on her features.

“Guess this means we should get out of bed.”  She scoffed regrettably.

“Afraid so.”  A slight buzz that said _nerves_ layered his speech. Viv picked up on it, and sat up as she pulled Adrien up to do the same.  She leaned forward and reached her hand behind his neck, encouraging his forehead to meet hers; the scent of her arousal evident as their faces neared.

“We’re on the same page here, Adrien.”  Viv started, “We both have every reason to be nervous about this.  I think your plan is going to work.  We _need_ it to work.  It has to.  And I’m going to make it happen.”

“There is no one else I would trust to carry this out, Viv.”  Adrien praised her, “I believe in you.  I’m glad that you’re at the helm here.  Believe me when I say it, the very spirit of Palaven is counting on you.”

Viv just nodded, feeling the weight of his words. She moved to gather her things for a shower.

“You need to clean up, Adrien?”  She called out at she moved toward the door.

“Um, I just washed yesterday. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Well excuse me.”  Viv responded with sarcasm.

“Interspecies awkwardness, I’m afraid.”  Adrien joked, continuing. “We only need to do that two or three times a week, at most.  You don’t want to see a turian who over-polishes his plates.”  He cringed at the mention.

“I’ll take your word for that.”  She shook her head as she spoke, a thin smile coming through.

She showered and got dressed; Adrien was gone by the time she was finished.

It was time to fill in the team.

\---

 

Viv was prepared to head downstairs and ready the ground team and fill in Wrex—who had been occupied the previous day in preparation for another series of Mordin’s tests—about the mission’s newest round of constraints. 

Garrus knew the latest caveats affecting the mission, but Shepard had not yet relayed the new details to the rest of her team, knowing that they likely didn’t have the same confidence in the Primarch that she held—the element of surprise was going to be the best way to keep them on board.  Having her cohorts overthink this would have likely brought trepidation; they had no reason to trust the Primarch, but every reason to trust her and Garrus.  It had to come from them, together.

Shepard pulled up her omni tool

_G. Shepard [0600. Normandy SR-2] Hey, G. Meet down in the armory at 0630 hours. Briefing with Wrex and the Primarch first, then we can fill in the rest of the ground team and crew_

_G. Vakarian [0601. Normandy SR-2] You got it. You seen Wrex since uh..you know?_

_G. Shepard [0601. Normandy SR-2] Can it._

_G. Vakarian [0602. Normandy SR-2] Never. I’ll ping him to meet you down there._

_G. Shepard [0602]. Normandy SR-2] Thanks. Ass._

Shepard rolled her eyes with a smile as she ended the conversation, walking over to the mess for a quick cup of coffee to bring with her as she briefed Wrex.  She sipped it as she closed her eyes, savoring the flavor—not the best coffee she’d ever had, but it always managed do the trick.

Beverage in hand, Shepard walked over to the elevator to get down to the hangar, mentally preparing herself for the briefing that faced her.  Vega and Cortez were preparing the shuttle, and Shepard graciously asked them to head up to the mess before the Primarch, Garrus, and Wrex arrived.

Vega affirmed her order as he said, “You got it, Lola.  Hungry anyway, we’ll see you in a bit.”

Cortez nodded in her direction, confirming as he waved Vega over to the elevator and made their ascent to the crew deck.

Victus knew to head down, and Garrus would be arriving shortly.  Shepard started looking at what loadouts she’d want to employ for the upcoming mission.  With a Reaper already stationed there, it made sense that they would have ground troops en masse.  She’d need a combination suitable for close combat; she’d have Garrus handle those at range.

As Shepard was deep in thought, the elevator doors hissed open and the thudding patter of Wrex’s footsteps quickly approached.

“Shepard!”  Wrex greeted, the smile he bore audible through his utterance. 

“Hey Wrex, want to look through some gear with me?  You have everything you need?”  Shepard asked, briefly looking over to him while she continued perusing their arsenal.

“All set, actually.”  Wrex responded, “Where’s the Primarch?”

“He’ll be down shortly for the briefing. Why?”  Shepard asked, guts already churning.

“He’s not down here?” Wrex asked, gruffly, as he started flitting his eyes in the direction of every possible nook and cranny in the shuttle bay; Shepard braced herself for the inevitable as a questioning look cascaded over the red-plated krogan’s countenance.

Wrex stepped closer to Shepard, moving his 700-pound form toward the armory area of the shuttle bay.  He tilted his head up and started sniffing the air around her.

“What the…”  Wrex started, then stopped as he saw Shepard’s face grow red.

Shepard dipped her head down, attempting to avoid Wrex’s gaze for as long as possible; she didn’t say a word, and kept perusing the armory.

“You filthy little pyjack!”  Wrex accused, before laughing.  It was laced with a fond smugness that only Wrex could pull off, and he clapped her on the back.  The contact pulled Shepard out of her avoidance; face growing redder and redder.

Shepard remained silent as she slowly braved eye contact.

“Always thought it’d be Vakarian, princess.”  Wrex said, “That Primarch has _no_ sense of humor, and at least Vakarian _thinks_ he’s funny.”

Wrex laughed again, in his boisterous, gruff way.

“Uh, Wrex..could you…” Shepard started in before Wrex cut her off.

“Don’t worry, pyjack.  You and the bird’s secret’s safe with me.”  He said, “But don’t think for a minute that I won’t give you a hard time about it.”

“I expected no less.”  Shepard affirmed.

“So tell me.”  Wrex started, “Does he take the stick out of his ass when you two…”

“This conversation is over.”  Shepard said, cutting him off.

Wrex just laughed again, and the elevator doors hissed open as the Primarch and Garrus met them in the bay.

“Wrex.”  Victus greeted with a nod as the two turians walked in.

“Primarch.”  Wrex acknowledged him in turn, with a knowing glare.

Victus only flicked a mandible in response, as Garrus looked at the trio, wordlessly appraising the situation.

“So, there’s a reason I wanted to meet with just the four of us.”  Shepard started, “We knew you were working with Mordin yesterday to get the rest of the tests finished and we didn’t want the crew needlessly fretting over this uh…unforeseen change of plans.  You’re not going to be happy, Wrex.  So just bear with us, okay?”

“Okay.”  Wrex affirmed with a question in his tone, “Spit it out.”

“We pulled some atmospheric scans at Traynor’s suggestion, and found foreign toxins being pumped into Tuchanka’s atmosphere.  Upon further inspection, those foreign toxins indicated a Reaper signature. It’s using the Shroud to disperse it.”  Shepard informed them, and continued. “The toxin makes using the Shroud to deploy the genophage cure impossible, so we had to change our approach.”

“Where’s the Reaper?”  Wrex asked, thoughts clearly moving at a wicked pace through his mind.

“Right outside of the Shroud’s structure.”  Shepard sounded exasperated, clearly distressed by the thought.

“So we’ll need to take out the Reaper before we cure this thing?  How in the hell are we going to manage that, Shepard?”  The disappointment was evident in Wrex’s tone.  The hope and playfulness in his voice from their earlier banter was gone.

“Primarch, care to do the honors?”  Shepard nodded toward Victus, giving him the podium so to speak.

Victus stepped forward with his hands clasped behind his back, stature confident. 

“We use the environment to our advantage.”  Victus started, “I’ve gone over the data recovered from the ninth platoon.  Kalros is the key.”

“Kalros?”  Wrex had shock in his tone, “You’re kidding me.  How does that monstrosity play into this?”

“We use those hammers.  With luck and a little bit of finesse, I think we can draw Kalros to the Reaper.”  Victus began, “Given their comparable size, I believe that we can give Kalros cause to _attack_ that Reaper.  Which, will stop the dispersal of the toxin that is currently rendering the cure useless. We’ll clear the entrance, and allow the Commander and her ground team to safely approach the Shroud tower with Mordin in tow, to deliver the cure.”

“Oh, you GOT to be kidding me, turian.”  Wrex’s voice was full of disdain—it reverberated through the hangar as a low growl.

“What would you propose, then?” Victus asked the krogan with a snarl—if he had a better plan, he wanted to hear it.

Silence.

“That’s what I thought.”  The Primarch’s rebuttal was terse. 

He continued, “We lure Kalros to the Reaper using the maw hammers, and take it out.  I have arranged for a turian fleet to help with air support, should we need it.  I would advise your krogan to bolster the ground teams, but I leave that charge to your behest.  Shepard will lead the squad with Garrus and Liara, and once we’ve cleared out the Reaper ground troops, they should be able to get Mordin and Eve to the structure, unharmed, to complete synthesis.  Eve will return safely with you, Wrex, and then Mordin will deliver the cure and use the Shroud to disperse it.”

“Well.  If Tuchanka has a temper, it’s Kalros.”  Wrex conceded, “This plan is crazy, turian.  But if the Commander is on board, so am I—won’t make the mistake of distrusting her again.”

“Garrus, anything else to add?”  Shepard asked.

“I think that about covers it.”  He said, “I’ll go fill in Liara.”

Shepard nodded as EDI’s voice came over the systems.

“Shepard, you have an urgent call on vidcom.  I have been instructed to keep its premise private.  Please take the call at your earliest convenience.” 

“Thanks, EDI.”  Shepard said, “Well guys, looks like I’m needed elsewhere.  Could you brief Cortez while I take this?”

“Of course, Shepard.”  Garrus nodded.

“Thanks.”  Shepard replied.  “We’ll be ready to hit the ground running as soon as the squad is geared up.  I’ll check in with Mordin and Eve after this call and make sure they’re good to go.  We’ve got this.”

Both the Primarch and Garrus nodded in affirmation; Wrex looked less than confident, but he trusted Shepard.  If this was the best plan they had—that _Shepard_ had—he’d be damned to question it.

\---

Shepard arrived to the war room to take the awaiting vid call, and was greeted with none other than salarian Dalatrass Linron herself.

“Dalatrass.”  Shepard started, “To what do I owe the _pleasure_.”  There was a lilt to her tone; one that indicated the interaction was not, in fact, a pleasure.

“Commander.”  Linron greeted, “I have a proposition for you.”

“Speak freely, Dalatrass.” 

“We are aware of your foolhardy plan to cure the genophage, Commander.”  Linron started, “I believe we can shore up krogan support for the turians without dooming the galaxy.”

“What do you mean?”  Shepard asked, incredulous.

“Years ago, STG operatives sabotaged the device you plan to use to disperse the cure.”  Linron informed her, “Go about it as if you were dispensing the cure as your plans have dictated.  But, do not repair the sabotage.  The krogan will believe you have cured the genophage.  You’ll get the support you need without dooming the galaxy to _slaughter_ after the Reapers have been defeated.”

“Absolutely not.”  Shepard was steadfast. “The krogan deserve this and it’s gone on for far too long, Dalatrass.  I will hear not another word on this, that’s final.”

“It’s your decision to make, Commander.” Linron said, “But know that if you go through with this cure, you can count the salarian fleet as well as our scientists out of the war effort, and that of constructing the Crucible.  It’s your call.  Make it wisely.”

The call ended without another word.

Shepard gripped the railing in front of her and hung her head.  _Mordin will know what to do_ , she thought for a moment to herself.

“EDI, could you get Mordin and Eve up here?”  Shepard called out.

“Of course, Commander.  Calling them now.”  EDI’s disembodied reply rang out.

“Thank you.”  Shepard said.

Shepard’s exhaustion rang true in each word she spoke.  There was a time to be tired, and a time to rally—and the time to rally was now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading <3
> 
> Tumblr @robinapril


	6. Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Tuchanka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist updated: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXMCaj6Bjd9rM5aEs-whpaZmrh7alrdkn
> 
> Thanks a million to ShudderShock for being the best damn beta a girl could hope for <3

The ride down was rocky—the shuttle hit pockets of air that threw Cortez’ navigation off balance.  Tumultuous thermal waves from the hostile atmosphere of Tuchanka tossed them around; Shepard, Garrus, and Liara held on for dear life.  Mordin and Wrex sat with Eve, tending to the nerves of the already anxious female krogan.  Turbulence such as this could make anyone not accustomed to air travel fretful; Eve hadn’t been in the air at length in such conditions for years.

“We’re almost there, Eve.”  Shepard consoled her, “It’ll all be worth it.  Mordin has a fix for the sabotage, we’re getting this done.”

“I trust you, Commander.”  Eve said, another bump in the ride causing interruptions to her normally smooth vocal cadence.  “Thank you, for not even considering the Dalatrass’ offer. You saved the krogan from another genophage.”

“No way in hell could I have done that.”  Shepard ended her utterance with a stiff nod; nervousness, anxiety in her body language.  She knew she was making the right call, doing the right thing—but her fears of the future still rang clear, despite the feeling of impending _justice_ that she felt.

“I just hope that at the end of the day, we won’t need the salarians for what comes next.”  Shepard looked to Wrex and Eve—seeing the two gave her reassurance. 

“We are krogan.”  Wrex started, “And you may as well be.  Damned if we can’t get this done.  This cure will ignite a hope that has been long lost to the krogan, Shepard.  I think that the hope of a future without the genophage can make up for any salarian _firepower_ we’d be missing.”  His tone was mocking at the mention of salarian firepower.

“I hope you’re right, Wrex.”  Shepard said.

“And besides,” Garrus started in, “If there’s more out there like Mordin, we may not be out of salarian support yet.  Remains to be seen.  That Dalatrass threw a spirits damned temper tantrum, and something tells me that the salarians as a whole won’t just fall in line.  If that were the case, we wouldn’t have a salarian hell-bent on curing this thing.  Don’t give up hope yet, Shepard.  We’re in this together.  It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the galaxy sees that.”

Shepard only clapped him on the shoulder and affirmed Garrus’ sentiment with a nod.

“Alright, so we’re getting close.  Here’s the rundown.”  Shepard began laying out the strategy once more to her crew.  “Cortez is going to drop us at these coordinates.  Mordin and Eve are going to hang back at this facility until we’re able to take down the Reaper and forge a clear path through their ground forces which, our scans are showing are already there in force.  We’ll have the Primarch on comm, he’s going to be directing the turian fleet and relaying any potential needs of ours to them.  They’re not to strike first, but we’re prepared to use them if the Reaper doesn’t take down the maw or vice versa in the scuffle.”

The crew listened with bated breath.

Shepard resumed outlining their strategy.  “So, we clear the ground forces with krogan support on the perimeter.  After we’ve cleared the area, Liara—I’m going to have you on the right hammer, Garrus—you’ll be on the left.  We’ll activate and hopefully Kalros will charge.  If the maw doesn’t do so right away, we have the fleet to fire and hopefully guide the maw to the Reaper.  It’ll take it down, and we can call Mordin forward as soon as we’ve confirmed final synthesis.  Eve, I’d feel better if you hung back—but I understand if Mordin needs you up there.”

Eve and Mordin both nodded in Shepard’s direction.  Liara’s trepidation was written clearly on her soft, blue face but hopefully, Garrus’ unwavering confidence would help her through it.

“Mordin, you said you had a fix for the sabotage, right?”  Shepard asked him.

“Of course.”  Mordin started, “Will regulate temperature, ensure cure’s successful distribution.  Not to worry, Commander.”

“Good.”  Shepard commended him, “So in short, we clear the Reaper ground forces with the support of the krogan.  Once we’ve dwindled their numbers, we activate the hammers and draw Kalros to the Reaper, using the turian fleet if needed.  We clear the Reaper, get Mordin to the tower, and we can disperse the cure once the sabotage is repaired.  Any questions?”

“None here, Shepard.”  Garrus confirmed.

“I understand.”  Liara’s voice sounded weak.

Cortez interjected, “Heavy fire at the LZ, Commander.  Gonna have to drop you here.”

And, without further ado, they disembarked from the shuttle.

 

\---

 

The battle thrummed around them as their feet made contact with the dust and debris that was Tuchanka’s surface.  A cloud of red dust rose as the shuttle parted, leaving the ground team to their task.

Wrex and a krogan squad lead Eve and Mordin to safety, as Shepard, Garrus, and Liara took point and began the arduous task of clearing the area, making their way to the maw hammers.

“Commander, do you read me?”  The Primarch’s voice rang over the comm.

“Loud and clear.”  Shepard replied, “Everything look good from your end?  Fleet in position?”

“Yes, Commander.  Ready to engage at my command, should we need them.”  The Primarch sounded confident, but his voice held a slight buzz that betrayed his nerves.  Shepard could relate—she had to wear the commander mask, else the weight of her own trepidation would bear down on the rest of her team. 

In their positions, both the Commander and the Primarch not only had to fool themselves in maintaining confidence, but they were also in charge of inciting that sort of confidence in all aspects of leadership—to their squads, their fleets, and to the very planets from which they hailed.  Entire species were counting on them—not just their own—and they didn’t have time to show their fear.

For just a split second, at the sound of his voice, she was Viv and he was Adrien.  It was the push that Shepard needed, that reminder of what this was all about.  She became the Commander once more.

And as Wrex rallied his squad, a gnashing growl rose above the rest.

“Get that salarian the _hell_ out of here.”  He motioned toward Mordin who was adjacent to Eve; Wreav’s booming voice could be heard in tandem with the rain of violence beating down on them, now from all angles without reprieve.

“You’re out of line, Wreav.”  Wrex chided, “He _developed_ the cure for the damn thing, with mine and Eve’s help. Mordin’s on our side.  You’d do well to _remember_ that.”

“I don’t trust him within an inch of the Shroud.”  Wreav spat, “We find another way.”

“Damn it, Wreav!”  Wrex’ exclamation was a growl.  “How many damned times do we have to go over this?  _You_ are not in charge, and there is a very specific _reason_ for that. Either fall in line, or get the _hell_ out of here.  I won’t ask twice.”

Wreav only growled and took up arms.  Wrex motioned for Eve and Mordin to fall behind the squad, and Wreav regarded her with a look that could only be read as _possessive_ ; _mine_. 

Wrex’ eyes narrowed in response.

“Commander, we’re all set here.” Wrex started.  “We’ll hold the line and keep Eve and Mordin safe so they can finish preparations for the cure. You go on and get to those hammers.  Give ‘em hell, pyjack.”

“Got it.”  Shepard confirmed, sweeping the foreground with her drawn rifle; sudden movement grabbing her attention. “SHIT.”  She yelled, “Brutes!”

Five brutes charged in from nearly every possible direction.  Garrus fell back to pick them off at range, Mantis propped up on makeshift concrete cover, while Liara popped up behind the broken pillar she hid behind and warped the brute nearest Shepard.  Shepard pulled out her Mattock, answering Liara’s warp with a symphony of gunfire as Garrus’ headshots obliterated the monster. 

_Rinse, repeat._

The brutes were down, and a slew of marauders took aim as several cannibals emerged from their cover.

Garrus picked off the marauders first, as Liara and Shepard made quick work of the rest; several husks caught in the throes of Liara’s singularity—she artfully detonated the biotic trap, dwindling their numbers with _style_.  The area was clear—for now—and in short fashion, Shepard’s next orders followed.

“Garrus!” Shepard yelled over the mechanical scream of the imposing Reaper ahead, “Get to the left hammer.  Liara, take up the right.  I’ll hold the line here and make sure you don’t get overrun during activation.”

“Got it, Commander.” Garrus confirmed, “Moving in now.”

Liara gave a curt nod, and moved into position.

“Primarch.” Shepard called, “Do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, Commander.”  His gravelly voice spurred a new hope in her that she couldn’t ignore; _Viv and Adrien_.

“Ready the fleet.”  She ordered.  “In position to activate the hammers, Kalros is coming.”

“I’ll keep the comm link open, Commander.”  Victus said, “They’ll be ready at a moment’s notice.”

“Excellent.”  Shepard said, “Thank you, Primarch.”

“Commander.”  Victus started, “I believe in you—the spirit of war is behind you.”  Warmth, faith, and pure, unadulterated admiration came through in his subvocals, and Shepard could only understand it because she had heard those tones before.  Just the sound of him stoked a flame in her that she didn’t know existed, hadn’t prepared for; she would use that fire to fuel her resolve, to end this; to _win_ this.

Shepard breathed in, and out, and said, “On my mark.”

She gave the order, and the hammers came down.

The ground beneath them and the rubble around them shook; the sound of the Reaper’s mechanical scream a silhouette of sound, a background to the screech that emerged as the land on which they stood quaked, concrete shattering and clattering around them.

In the distance, a cloud of red dust and dirt erupted as the ground parted and Kalros emerged; the mother of all thresher maws, responded at their behest to destroy that mass of synthetic monstrosity.

The Reaper took aim as Kalros approached, weaving in and out of the ground, over and under in darting patterns.  The Reaper’s laser sounded, caught Kalros in its sights, and fired—but Kalros was quick; it plunged back underground as the laser missed, kicking up more dirt and rubble in its stead.

The Reaper started queuing up another shot and the gargantuan maw reemerged from its temporary solace.  Its form drew up, poised as a cobra preparing to lurch toward its prey. 

The ground team paused to take in the sight, shock and awe on their features as they witnessed the perplexing, _impossible_ battle before them.

Kalros retreated, its colossal form drawing back; it arched and lunged forward, and wrapped the Reaper in its bodily grasp.  The Reaper fired another missing shot, and with one last mechanical screech, Kalros pulled it under to its lair.

“This isn’t good!”  Garrus yelled out, referring to the failure of incapacitating Kalros.

“On it!”  Shepard reassured, she called to the Primarch, “Victus!  We need your fleet to fire on Kalros.  We’ve got the Reaper down, but we can’t get up there with that maw still active.  Ready fire!”

“Copy!”  He said, drawing up the general within, “The maw is still active, I repeat—the maw is still active!  Fleet! Rain hell on that beast.”

And at that, a hail of missiles littered the landscape of holes and tunnels left by Kalros in the wake of its dance with the Reaper.  Thanix cannons left treads in the dirt, carving deep canyons in their wake.  The acidic sound of Kalros’ death quickly followed.

Even at a distance, the sizzles and cracks of the thresher maw’s caustic demise echoed; it dimmed, and a stark, uncomfortable silence descended over the landscape.

“Primarch, are you getting a read?”  Shepard called out over her comm link, “Are we clear to approach?”

“Yes, Commander.”  He exhaled as he answered. “All clear.”

“Copy that.”  Shepard confirmed, she called out again “Wrex, do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, Commander.”  He responded, “The cure is ready.  Eve barely survived the procedure but it’s ready and all clear for you to get Mordin to the tower.”

“Alright, team.”  Shepard said, “This is it.  Let’s get it done.”

As the team approached, however, it became abundantly clear that the Shroud tower’s structure was gravely compromised in the preceding scuffle; misfires from the Reaper had grazed its foundation, remnants of the maw’s flailing were evident by way of smashed beams, and friendly fire from the turian air fleet grazed the edifice.  The thing was going to come down, and _fast_.  They needed to move.

“Shit.”  Shepard said, “This tower is coming down.  We have to MOVE.” Anxiety crawled up her throat.

At that, the group pressed forward.  They entered the building’s base together after meandering through piles of battle refuse—corpses, gore, ashes, and destruction all at once at their feet. 

“Mordin, you have everything you need?”  Shepard asked the salarian, who already bore a proud, knowing look.

“Prepared for dispersal in two minutes.”  Mordin said, “Must take elevator up to correct sabotage, can’t remotely disperse and account for temperature malfunction.”

“Mordin, this whole thing is going down.  That’s _suicide_ ,” she said.

“My project, my work, my cure, my responsibility,” Mordin rebutted.

“Mordin, don’t!”  Shepard’s response was a choked gasp, desperation catching in her throat in place of the anxiety that lived there before.

As the elevator doors opened, Mordin solemnly strode to the mechanism that would deliver him to his coffin.

“Had to be me.”  He started as the doors slowly moved to close, “Someone else might have gotten it wrong.”

_He knew all along_.  Shepard realized that as the elevator doors clicked shut and Mordin was out of view.

Shepard didn’t have time to mourn.  She rallied her squad to move out, darting away from the tower to safety with swift strides back toward the krogan squad.

They reached safety and watched as the two minutes passed by—the cure dispersed as the tower shattered.

Shepard, Garrus, Liara, Eve, and Wrex watched as ashes fell—rebirth drawn from sacrifice.

Wrex planted a firm hand on Shepard’s shoulder, and said “When the krogan say the word ‘hero’ from here on out, Shepard—they’ll be talking about you.”

“They shouldn’t be.”  She replied, “They _should_ be speaking of Mordin.”

“The krogan will _never_ speak of a salarian as a hero, human.”  Wreav interjected.

“I’ve had about enough of you.”  Wrex chided.

“You might have,” Wreav said, “But I’m sure Eve here will _never_ get enough.”

“That’s it, Wreav.”  Wrex responded with distain thick in his tone.  He drew his shotgun from his back, and without preamble, he painted the walls with his brother’s brains at point-blank range.  Blood and gray matter splattered the concrete behind him, and Wreav spoke no more.

The rest of the team only looked on the display momentarily with shock, before Eve started to speak to the krogan in their midst.

“This is the dawning of a new age for the krogan.”  She started, “No longer will we thirst for war, for destruction.  We will first show our goodwill by lending aid to Palaven.  We will _not_ have a replay of the rebellions, nor will we tolerate the uprising of such sentiments.  Commander Shepard and Mordin Solus have given the krogan a second chance.  It will not be wasted, and Mordin’s death will not have been in vain.  Clan Urdnot will lead this charge.  After the Reapers have been defeated, the galaxy will know a new krogan, a new future—thanks to our _friends_ Commander Shepard and Mordin Solus.  We owe this to them, and we will not let them down.”

The krogan squad cheered, and Wrex looked on Eve with admiration to the backdrop of boisterous krogan celebration. She’d never seen such a look in his eyes. 

Shepard and her squad said their farewells and thanked the krogan for all of their support in securing the cure.  She hated to admit that relief had flooded her that Wrex had acted out and killed his brother, once the surprise and shock of the incident wore off.  Wreav was at the crux of many of Shepard’s concerns about curing the genophage and what might result in the future, and with him gone and no longer at threat of moving up in the ranks of Clan Urdnot, she could breathe a little easier.  Given what lied ahead, however—that wasn’t saying much.

Leaving Wrex and Eve behind, the squad walked back to the shuttle for the solemn return to the Normandy—without Mordin in tow.

 

\---

 

The shuttle arrived back to the Normandy’s hangar without a word said on the ride back.  Shepard didn’t need any more affirmations that Mordin’s sacrifice was necessary.  It was, and she knew it—but as Garrus had told her before, the platitudes get old.  This was no different.

Shepard informed Hackett of the cure’s success, and while he didn’t chide her for her decision on the matter, he did express his apprehension for the future.  In the interim, though, the cure meant that krogan aid was secured for the turians, and by proxy—turian support for the humans.

The entire conversation left her feeling like she needed air, like every gasp would be her last.  She was choking, suffocating—and there wasn’t a thing that she, nor anyone else, could do about it. 

After every loss, every sacrifice—it was getting harder and harder to remember _how_ to breathe without feeling the weight of all that’s been lost pressing down on her chest. And, just as the recollection would hit again, something else was ripped from her grasp and she’d have to start at square one. 

Shepard left the confines of the vidcom setup; she needed to make her way through the war room, up to her cabin for a shower, and then make a prompt trip down to the lounge to nab a bottle of bourbon.  She needed a thick buzz, something capable of dulling the droning metronome of her heart thudding behind her breastbone.  Shepard needed to feel numb.  Nothing else would do.

She toweled off and donned her usual shorts and tank top, and went down the elevator to grab her booze from the bar.  The ship was quiet, solemn.  Not a soul had spoken to her since they returned.  _Good_ , she thought.  _It’s better that way_.  Viv knew that it wasn’t out of a lack of concern, but as Garrus had said and she begrudgingly admitted—the cracks were starting to show; when they shone the brightest, the crew knew to leave her be.

Adrien hadn’t gotten the memo.

He was in the lounge waiting before she arrived, on the couch.  Adrien leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.  Looking up to Viv, he said with droning subvocals “I knew I’d be able to find you here, in time.”

“Hey.” She exhaled as the word fell out of her mouth; a breath escaped she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

“I won’t offer platitudes.” Adrien started, “But I will offer an ear if you wish to talk of what happened today.  All I will say on the matter is that with krogan support, the turians will be there in force for the humans when the time comes to take back Earth.  You have my word.”

“I know, Adrien.”  Viv looked down at her hands as she opened the bottle.  She didn’t bother with a glass, and took a pull that burned down her throat—pushing back the sick emotions that lived there that day.  She closed her eyes and felt it burn; she took another pull before walking over to where Adrien sat.  Keeping the bottle in her hand, Viv moved to sit next to Adrien and laid her head in his lap, curling her legs in close to her body.

He brought his arm around her, draping it over her side and his hand came to rest over her breastbone; he felt her heart beating beneath his fingertips.  Viv brought her free hand up to rest over Adrien’s as she pulled the bottle to her lips once more. 

Adrien wasn’t going to force her to talk of matters she didn’t wish to—the same condolences are offered at every loss, but a soldier—a _good_ soldier—understood the costs, and condolences didn’t _pay_ those fees.  Mordin’s sacrifice happened to _be_ that fee this time, and both he and Viv were well aware of that fact.  Thus, what Adrien had found to be most helpful during his time in the military, when death or sacrifice were the cost of that victory, was quiet reflection.  It gave a soldier opportunity to consider the necessity of the sacrifice—what that sacrifice _meant_.  Condolences didn’t bring people back—they attempted to obscure the reality of the price of victory.  Viv didn’t need that, and Adrien wasn’t going to provide it.

Viv laid still, save for the stiff motion of pulling her bourbon to her lips.  She’d give a slight shudder from the burn, and then drop her arm down once more—the bottle never leaving her grasp.  That bottle and Adrien were her two anchors now, and Viv liked it that way.

“What do you need from me, Viv?”  Adrien broke the silence; they’d been sitting there nearly an hour at that point—it’d been a long day for him, too, and he felt the draw of sleep creeping in.  He would understand, however, if she wanted to be left alone that night. 

Viv broke out of her trance-like state to look up at him.  Speech slightly slurred, she said “We can go up to the cabin if you want.  I-I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Adrien patted her chest where his hand lay, and before standing up he leaned down and rested the side of his face to the top of her head, flicking a mandible in what was meant to be a comforting gesture—but it had the unintended effect of making Viv let out a quiet huff of laughter.  Even though that’s not what he was hoping for, Adrien was so glad to hear that sound from her.

They left the lounge arm in arm—disregarding the possible risk of running into someone along the way. Adrien used the interface to deliver them to the captain’s cabin.  Once they arrived, Viv went straight for the bed and balled herself up under the covers.  She’d brought the booze up with her, but closed it up and tucked it under her nightstand for later.  Adrien crawled in beside her, still fully dressed and he pressed himself against her back.

Viv only let out a quiet hum, as his warmth and her buzz drifted her off to sleep.

 

\---

 

Viv woke up to the nearly smothering feeling of large, muscled arms gripped around her—a quiet rumble against her back.  Adrien was gripping her tighter than he had before, and she almost felt a sensation of _fear_ underlying the sounds he was making.  She twisted her neck to look at him, and he’d been staring down at the top of her head as his arms wrapped around her tightly, almost uncomfortably so.

Sleep still in her voice, Viv asked him “You okay?”  It was a struggle to turn herself to face him, striving for eye contact with her turian bedmate.  Adrien was simply holding her too tightly.  He didn’t answer her question, and only let out a tired keen.

“You’re kind of hurting me, Adrien.”  Viv stated as she squirmed and patted his arms, endeavoring to get him to loosen his grip. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

Her words must have startled him from his trance, as his arms relaxed and Viv could breathe comfortably again.

Adrien didn’t waste any time getting to his point.

“We are en route to the Citadel now, as you’re well aware.”  He started, _desperation_ sounding out of his second larynx.  “And, having completed our objective on Tuchanka, the Citadel is where we will part ways.  I don’t want to leave you, but you know that I have to.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Viv’s words were despondent.  “So what next, is what you’re getting at I’d imagine?”

“As we have discussed before, Viv.  I would very much like to be with you, as we are now—for the rest of my days.”  Adrien’s chest reverberated as the words left his mouth, he continued, “But the reality is that we don’t know how many of those days we have left, and the fact remains that there will be even fewer of those days in which we stand side by side.”

Viv blinked and a tear rolled down her face from the corner of her eye to her jawbone.

“But when the time comes, I will be there by your side with the entire turian fleet.  And not just because of the krogan.  Because of _you_.  I- I just wanted you to know that.”

Viv didn’t think she’d _ever_ heard the slick tongued Primarch stutter over a word before.  At that raw display, she spoke up—the thudding in her chest fueling her next words.

“I know this must sound crazy, so soon—I feel like we’ve moved very fast, but when your heart tells you something that your brain doesn’t see a reason to disagree with, it’s worth jumping in head first and taking that risk.”  Viv’s words were somewhat hurried, like she couldn’t get them out fast enough. “I love you, Adrien.  And whatever the future holds, after this war—if we make it out alive?  I see that future with you.”

The affection in his subharmonics came out unbidden—he was telling her he loved her, in his own way.  Viv didn’t need him to say it; she knew.  So, she smiled at him in understanding—green eyes ablaze.

They held each other for a long while, and Viv spoke up before they left her bed for the day. “We have the trip to the Citadel ahead of us, think you could swing a 48 hour break after we arrive?  A Primarch is always on duty, I know—a Spectre is, too.  But my crew needs a break, and I know you and I both do.  You were just recently named _Primarch_ , if I recall, and you haven’t had but fleeting moments to rest.  I think we’ve earned it, and before we have to resign to our duties, I want time to simply enjoy _you_.”

“I know we’ll find our way back to each other.”  Adrien started, “You are all I want, all I need.  Let’s enjoy this last bit of time together, just us.  A short shore leave is doable, I’m fairly certain.  I know a great levo-dextro place I can get reservations at—being a Primarch has its _perks_ , as I’m sure you’re aware.  I’ll manage lodging for us during our stay, as well.  And when you venture to the Citadel in the future, most of my business will be conducted from there.  It’s not safe for me back on Palaven, and while I am no diplomat—I feel that I can do more good there, working with all of the races.  I want to ensure that our paths cross.”

“Of course.”  Viv spoke with a smile.  They needed a break _so badly_ , and she was glad for the reprieve—however short. 

 

\---

“Hey, Commander?” Joker’s voice rang out over the intercom, unease in his voice.  “Just tried to get docking permission at D24, and their comm channels seem to be down.”

Shepard replied, “Try running for system failures.”  She ordered as she turned away from the galaxy map and started walking toward the bridge, feet moving at a quickened pace.

“No go, Commander.  We’re blocked,” Joker said as Shepard peered over his shoulder.  He turned to look at her, waiting for her orders.  “Nothing but silence.”

“Try it again.”  She commanded, hopeful for a different outcome.

Joker tried, and instead of the deafening nothingness before, received only static.

Shepard sighed.  “Well, this isn’t good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On tumblr @robinapril. Come say hey!
> 
> As always, thank you so so much for reading! Your kind words and lovely comments seriously make my day.


	7. Coup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cerberus coup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: Not the greatest chapter for Kaidan fans. 
> 
> Characters owned by BioWare.
> 
> Thanks so much to ShudderShock for beta reading!!
> 
> Playlist updated: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXMCaj6Bjd9rM5aEs-whpaZmrh7alrdkn

The group looked to each other with worry on their features.  What a time for a _situation_ at the Citadel. With their luck, it certainly figured.  Not that they weren’t confident they could solve whatever problem presented itself, no—just, _luck_ would have it so they would have to work for their reprieve.

 _This shore leave better be good_ , Viv thought to herself.

“Can’t say for sure from here, Commander, but it looks like Cerberus has control of the docks,” Joker stated, concerned.

Shepard was quick to come to a solution, however. “Well, we’ll have to take a shuttle down then.”  She said, “Tell Cortez to gear up.  Liara, Garrus—you’ll be with me.”

Just then, the static broke and a familiar, feminine voice came over the barely-established fragmented comm link.

“Shepard, good of you to drop by,” Miranda rang through, her cadence and accent clear as day, even over the shoddy comm link.

“Miranda?”  Shepard asked.

“One in the same, Shepard.”  Miranda started, “We’ve got a bit of a situation on our hands, and could really use your help.”

“Why in the hell am I not surprised?”  Shepard had a slight laugh to her tone—pissed, to be sure—but something like this just _had_ to happen before the crew took a well-deserved break.  _This would only happen to me_ , she thought.

“Cerberus is controlling the docks.”  Miranda started, straight to business. “They have also holed up in C-Sec headquarters and taken control of the entire network, Shepard.”

“So, we get in there and stop them.”  Shepard said.

“There’s more.” Miranda replied.

Shepard rolled her eyes. Of course, there was more. “Let’s hear it, Miranda.”

“Cerberus has Councilor Valern.  We’re trying to figure out where they’re holding him, but they have him.”

“What else?”

“Kai Leng, one of Cerberus’ top operatives—on par with you and I—is looking for you.”  Miranda’s tone was matter of fact, even cold.  Intended or not, it sent a chill down Shepard’s spine.

Miranda started again, “They’re using the network to put feelers out, to try and spot you.  They must have learned somehow that you were on the way.  You certainly know how to make an entrance.”

“A skill hard won,” Shepard said, sarcasm dripping from her tone.  “Alright.  So, we get in, retake C-Sec, find the salarian Councilor, figure out what the hell this _Leng_ is up to, and then save the day.  Happy fucking shore leave, folks.”

“Sorry, Shepard.”  Miranda said, genuinely.  “Hope you get a breather soon, maybe we can grab a drink together once this blows over.”

“Hah,” Shepard huffed, “Yeah, maybe.  You able to crack into anything with your old Cerberus access?  Get us any useful intel?”

“I’ve tried, but best I could manage was linking these comms.  They’ve got it locked down tight, so there’s not much else I can do.  I am scouring for resources on Kai Leng, trying to figure out what he’s up to.  So far, not much.” Miranda explained, “All I know is that he’s capable, and dangerous.  Be careful.”

“Duly noted.”  Shepard nodded, and turned to make her way out of the bridge and down to the armory to suit up.

As she traipsed toward the CIC, she was met by the Primarch who was perched near the cockpit, listening in as the situation unfolded.

“It appears that our plans have changed.”  Victus had some comedy in his voice, seemingly unsurprised by the recent turn of events.  “Too good to be true, I suppose.  What do you need from me?”

“Honestly, Adrien—just keep yourself safe.  You can stay up here if you want, or you can get in the trenches with us. Either way, you’re going to have to make your way down to the Citadel sooner or later.  I’d rather you not fight, but I know I can’t stop you.” 

Shepard gave him the freedom to choose—he may be a Primarch, but he was also his own man, and a damn good fighter to boot.  She’d be lying if she said a small part of her didn’t want him to come down with her, to fight together side by side.  Another, far larger part, didn’t want to expose him to any unnecessary risks. 

They stood, silently facing each other for mere moments, when Victus spoke up.  “I’m coming with you.” He stated, no hesitation in his voice, subharmonics taking on a note of genuine concern.  “Damn if I’m not going to spend every hour of my shore leave with the woman I love.”

Shepard’s heart leapt out of her chest—she hadn’t expected him to say the words; he didn’t need to.  She knew.  But to hear him say this, in the face of a spur of the moment battle?  She didn’t know how she got so lucky to find such a perfect companion.

“Your call, Primarch.”  Shepard couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin from her face.

Victus simply nodded, and they made for the elevator down to the armory.  Cortez was already in the pilot’s seat by the time they arrived.  The team of four donned their armor, neither Liara nor Garrus questioning Victus’ presence, and made for the shuttle.

 

\---

 

Gunfire greeted the team immediately after landing near C-Sec headquarters.  The Presidium was in shambles, civilians clamoring for whatever meager cover they could find.  The wreckage was immense—rubble strewn about the typically immaculate state of this particular part of the Citadel.  It was a sight to behold, really.

A small group of C-Sec offers and armed allies of various sorts were putting in efforts as well—covered behind the ledge of one of the shattered windows of what was formerly a boutique.  Miranda’s voice came over Shepard’s comm as they made their approach.

“Shepard,” Miranda started, “We’re holed up at an old boutique, trying knock them down as much as we can, distract them from the shuttle.”

“Good deal,” Shepard said, “We’re about to disembark from the shuttle now.  Keep firing, and watch your ass.”

“You got it, Shepard.” Miranda confirmed, mirth in her tone.

“Just like old times.” Garrus said as he readied his rifle.

“Hah, yeah,” Shepard huffed as she did the same.

The shuttle door flew open, and Shepard, Victus, Garrus, and Liara returned the many Cerberus agents’ fire.  Liara threw biotic wave after wave at them, lifting and throwing and warping; rinse repeat.  Garrus focused on the engineers, keeping them from setting up turrets that would only be an added nuisance, and one that was wholly avoidable.

Miranda was offering cover fire from her location as well, supplementing her finesse with her weaponry with her superior biotic prowess.

Shepard and Victus jumped out of the shuttle when much of the way was cleared—Garrus and Liara’s attacks were so efficient, that their weapons did not have to work hard at all to nix most of Cerberus’ numbers in their presence.

It didn’t stay quiet for long, however.  A metallic screech sounded near one of the elevators, and the group turned toward the noise and saw sparks flying from between where the doors were sealed shut.  They trained their weapons on it, ready to fire when more Cerberus ilk emerged.

Once the doors flew open, they were greeted with a familiar face.

“Commander Bailey,” Shepard said, exasperated, “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Don’t get your hopes up yet, Shepard.” Bailey said, “We’re trying to retake HQ.  We’re flying blind here without the network— Cerberus hacked the whole thing.  We’re scrambling.  We have to get in there and reestablish some kind of link to coordinate our attack.”

‘I think I can help with that.” They heard it from the distance as footsteps approached, Miranda emerging from the rubble of the boutique adjacent.

“She managed to get us a link fragment while we made our approach down to the Citadel, Commander.” Shepard stated, commending Miranda’s affinity for tech.  “She could probably make quick work of getting us all set up again.”

“Happy to do it.” Miranda said with a nod, “Just get me what I need to get started and I can back you up.”

Bailey forwarded what she needed to her omni-tool—he didn’t ask questions, but he trusted Shepard.  If she trusted her, then who was he to question it?  So he didn’t.

“What do you need from us?” Shepard asked.

“Backup” he said, “I think the five of us are formidable enough to take back HQ and break their hold on the network.  We just have to move fast if we have any hope of pinning down where the councilors are.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Victus spoke, and the general awoke in his voice. “Let’s move.”

Bailey nodded, and the rest of the team fell in line.

They walked through the destruction and chaos of the Presidium, and arrived at C-Sec HQ—everything was locked down; steel blinds covered the windows, doors were sealed shut.

“I’ve got this.”  Bailey said, confident.

“After you.” Shepard motioned as he started hacking the door.

Bailey quickly got through, and before the doors hissed open he said, “Ready your weapons.”  And the team did as he asked.

Bullets zipped out of the doors the moment they parted, and Shepard’s squad returned their greeting in kind.  One by one, they obliterated the Cerberus squad that was housed at HQ.  The team made quick work of sweeping the immediate area—until they were sure that Cerberus was no longer an impending threat where they stood.

Once the team’s vicinity was cleared of Cerberus troops, Commander Bailey got to work at a terminal, attempting to set up some semblance of a communication network through which he could coordinate with the other officers.  Even if the link was weak, it was better than nothing and could at least offer some collaboration in their efforts.

“So, I can’t cut their access entirely,” Bailey started, “But I can set up a sub-network, thanks to your—what was her name?”

“Miranda Lawson,” Shepard answered, “Ex-Cerberus.”

“That explains it.” Bailey started again, “I can link up with some of our officers, as well as get in touch with you via omni-tool.” 

He continued manipulating aspects of the link, before saying, “Alright, we’re good to go.  From what I can tell, Councilor Valern sent out a warning.  He was about to meet with the Executor.”

“The Executor?”  Shepard asked, “What the hell for?”

“Can’t say,” Bailey answered, “But it must mean something big was about to go down.  We’ll have to find them to make heads or tails of any of this.”

Bailey ran a few more scans, and found that the Councilor was being held upstairs, in the Executor’s office. 

“We’re in luck,” Bailey started, “If you want to call it that.  Looks like they’re holding Valern in Pallin’s office.  Be vigilant, and let’s get upstairs.”

The group turned to make their way up, and a hand fell on Shepard’s shoulder; she turned to meet Victus’ gaze.

“I know this is your show, Shepard.”  Victus started with a buzz lining his voice, “But I don’t like this one bit.  I can feel it in my gizzard.  Something isn’t right—feels like a trap.”

“It very well could be, she replied, “but we have to get in there. Don’t really have much of a choice.”

“I’ve got your six.” Victus stated, that same adoration in his subvocals that she had gotten so used to hearing. It was a comfort, an assurance—with him at her back, she felt unstoppable.  She smiled and gave a curt nod, and ordered the team to ascend the steps.

The team picked off the group of Cerberus cronies surrounding the Executor’s office, and once they were down they hacked the door and entered.  Two salarian bodyguards lay dead on the floor, along with the Executor himself.

“Shit.” Bailey uttered, “Not good.”

“Any clues about what this meeting was all about, Commander?” Shepard asked.

“None yet, let’s do a full sweep of the office.” He responded, and the team started to search the office as requested.

Garrus busied himself scanning through the small room. "No information about what the meeting was about." He remarked offhandedly, when an alert suddenly sounded from his omni-tool.  It was poised at a locked closet at the far end of the office. "But, this looks important." Garrus mused. "And I think we're in luck."

He hacked the door, and the terrified salarian councilor spilled out of his hiding spot.

“Are they gone? What’s happening?” He said, panicked, “Did they get the Executor? We have to move fast!

“Slow down, Councilor.” Shepard said, her voice attempting a calming cadence but barely succeeding. “We’ve cleared Cerberus from the station.  They killed the Executor, though.  And your bodyguards have seen better days.”

Valern’s head dropped, as he shook it side to side. “I should have acted sooner.” He voiced his regret with volition.

“You couldn’t have planned for this, Councilor.” Shepard said, trying her best to comfort the forlorn Valern standing in front of them.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Commander.” Valern started, “It’s Udina. I had my suspicions for some time, but was concerned that those suspicions would have been met with racist outcry.”

“What does Udina have to do with this?” Victus piped up, just as confused as Shepard in that moment.

“He’s attempting a coup.” Valern answered, “The other councilors are on their way into a trap.”

“I never trusted that bastard.” Shepard commented, bitingly. “Where are they?”

And before Valern could answer, the door darkened with an unfamiliar presence.

Dark tendrils framed the figure’s face.  His eyes were shadowed with ill intent, a structured face marred with a devious grin.  He stood confidently, yet cautiously.  He moved as if he owned the room.

Shepard could only assume that this was the Kai Leng that Miranda had warned her about.

“Kai Leng, I presume?” Shepard asked.

“You’ve heard of me.” He responded, “Didn’t realize my reputation preceded me.”

“Cut to the chase, Leng.” Shepard spat, “What the hell is this?”

“Just here to tend to a little unfinished business.” Leng responded, “Hand over the councilor.”

“Not a chance.” Shepard said, “Not sure who you think you are, but you must be smart enough to realize that I am not about to threaten galactic stability, or what’s left of it, by simply ‘handing over’ the councilor.  Try again.”

“Have it your way.” Leng responded, voice thick with malice.

Leng cloaked himself, and before any of the squad could react, He reappeared and drew his sword—holding it against Valern’s throat.

“You can make this easy, or you can make it hard.” He said, “Your call.”

Without another word, Garrus opened fire on the operative—but he was too quick.  At the sound of gunfire, Kai Leng wasted no time in swiping his blade across the salarian councilor’s throat.  His body dropped to the floor, blood pooling around his still, limp form.

Shepard’s heart sank, and the team unleashed on Kai Leng.  But, he cloaked himself once more and clearly left the vicinity in the short time after slicing open the councilor’s throat.

Shepard and her squad bolted outside, only to see Leng escaping from the roof to a shuttle, filled with yet more Cerberus troops.

“On it!” Bailey said, “Hacked a C-Sec skycar for you, move out!”

Shepard nodded in affirmation, as Bailey announced that Leng was on his way to track down the other councilors, being led by Udina into a trap.  “I’m going to hang back here, see if I can make their travels as difficult as possible.” Bailey said, “We’re linked up on our omni-tools.  I’ll keep you posted.”

The squad got into the vehicle, leaving Bailey to work on the sidelines.

“I’m sending you the Council’s coordinates, Commander.” He said through the comm link, the squad already on the move. “Be quick about it! They won’t have much time if Leng finds them first.”

“Copy that.” Replied Shepard, and as they reached a comfortable traveling elevation, a _thud_ startled the team.

“Fuck!” Shepard exclaimed, “We have company!”

Leng slid down from the roof of the skycar, peering into the windshield as he repeatedly drove his sword through the hood of the vehicle.  The vehicle sputtered, shook, and emitted massive plumes of smoke.

Liara leaned out the window with her pistol, firing several shots at Leng as he worked on incapacitating their vehicle.  His shield deflected every blow, however, and as the skycar started losing elevation, Leng jumped over into a Cerberus shuttle as their team opened fire.

The car was already in a sorry state and the gunfire from the Cerberus shuttle only sealed the deal.  The vehicle crashed, unceremoniously landing, completely incapacitated.  Fortunately, the Council’s guards were stationed just outside of the elevator nearest the squad.

“Commander.”  The turian guard greeted, “We’ve sent the council up ahead, trying to get them to safety. We are standing guard here, trying to keep Cerberus off their tails. They have a Spectre with them as well.”

“Is Udina with them?” Shepard asked.

“Of course, Commander.” The guard replied.

“Not good!” She said, “We need to get to them, stat.”

“Commander.” Bailey’s voice rang out over her ‘tool. “We can get you into one of the elevators! Try to stop Leng and his crew from getting to the council but you’re going to have to move fast.”

“Well what are we waiting for, get us in there.” Shepard retorted.

“I can hack the system, but you’re going to have to get in there and get to the roof of the elevator.  You have to activate the power conduit.” Bailey instructed, “Then, you’ll have to fight your way up.  I can make Leng’s journey as difficult as possible, but I fully expect heavy resistance in the elevator shaft.”

“We’ll do what we have to.” Shepard said as she motioned for the rest of her squad to make their way to the elevator.  The doors opened, and they entered and broke through the ceiling of the elevator car.  Garrus flipped the conduit on, hacking it.  They started to move.

“Looks like Cerberus is in the car to your right, Shepard.” Bailey said, “Don’t worry, though.  I’ve hacked it so it’ll stop on every floor.”

“Nice!” She said, a smile in her voice. 

Slowing them down further, they spotted the elevator their adversaries were in and shot out the power conduit at its base.  “We’ve knocked out their power source, Bailey.  We’re hearing more resistance, though.  Things are about to get hairy.”

“Yeah, even more so.” Bailey said, “You fought phantoms yet?”

“Negative.” Shepard answered, “But let me guess.  New and improved Cerberus baddies?”

“Coming your way.”  Bailey didn’t elaborate further, as the conversation was abruptly stopped when red beams flitted past Shepard and her squad.

Bailey came back over the comm. He said “Leng and his team have jumped into another elevator, they’ve overridden my controls.  You’re going to have to fight your way up and shoot out the power conduits when they catch up with you.”

“Copy that.” She confirmed.

Another elevator came billowing up the shaft, phantoms riding on the top of it.  The squad made quick work of them, though, and Victus took special care to annihilate the power conduits while the rest of the squad fought off the phantoms.

They neared the top, catching up to the Council’s car.  The squad broke through the elevator after prying the doors open.  The remaining Councilors—Udina, Sparatus, and Tevos—along with the second human Spectre, Kaidan Alenko, came out of the elevator next to them.

“Shepard!” Bailey’s voice rang through the link once again, “We’ve pinned Leng’s location.  He’s holed up at a nearby hotel with another group of Cerberus troops.”

“Copy that,” Shepard replied, “We’ve got the Council up here, working on getting them to safety.  Stand by, and don’t lose Leng.  We’ll deal with him shortly.”

“On it.” Bailey confirmed.

“Udina!” Shepard yelled, “Stay right there.”

“What is the meaning of this?” He said, disdain thick in his tone, “She’s blocking our escape!”

“Stand down, Commander!” Kaidan tried to order.

“Kaidan, you’ve been misled.” Shepard started, trying to maintain some semblance of calm in her tone, “Udina is leading you all into a trap.”

“Foolishness!” Udina whined, in his trademark snivel, “We are trying to escape, and you are in our way!”

“And where is it that you’re trying to escape to, pray tell?” Victus piped up.

“The hotel!” Udina replied. “If you must know.”

“Figured as much.” Shepard said, “Councilor Sparatus, Tevos—please get behind us. And trust me, just this once.”

Tevos started, “We’ve made the mistake of not trusting the commander before.  I, for one, will not make that mistake again.”

“Agreed.” Sparatus said, as they both motioned to get behind Shepard’s squad.  They were quickly interrupted, however.

“Don’t listen to her!” Kaidan said, “Shepard has worked with Cerberus before, she can’t be trusted.”

“Agent Alenko is right!” Udina echoed, “She cannot be trusted!”

“I beg you.” Shepard’s voice had as much pleading in it as she could muster, “Please, you have to listen to me.”

“I won’t stand for this foolishness.” Udina remarked, “I’m hacking this car and we’re getting out of here.”  As the words left his mouth, Kaidan trained his weapon on Shepard.  As he leveled his pistol, poised to hit Shepard right between the eyes, a low, intimidating growl sounded—it was billowing from Victus’ chest.

“I strongly recommend you rethink your approach here, Spectre.” Victus drawled, mandibles flared to display his sharp, needle-like teeth in an unbidden display, communicating that a threat to Shepard was just as much a threat to him.  “Shepard might hesitate, but I will not.”

Kaidan’s aim noticeably faltered, but he did not drop his weapon.  Udina continued his attempt at hacking the console, trying to get a skycar to flee in an effort to take them to Kai Leng and his crew.  They had to act now, and Shepard knew that either way—they would be walking away from this situation with either one less councilor, or one less Spectre.  Maybe both. 

Time was running out, and if Kaidan's ego didn’t dissolve, he would pay the price for it.  She had no way to stop Victus from acting out, his protective nature taking hold.  All things considered, Shepard thought it was quite endearing.

“I’ll ask one more time.” Shepard said, an unforgiving tone taking hold. “Udina, stand down.  Admit you were trying to seize power of the station with Cerberus’ help.  Kaidan, either trust me and drop your weapon, or pay the price for your blind loyalty to the human councilor.  Your call.  I won’t ask again.”

“Udina would never do that.” Kaidan said.

Disbelief washed over Shepard, and she shook her head side to side.  She looked to her squad and nodded.

Without another word, Victus pulled the trigger and Kaidan’s form slumped to the ground; red blood pooling quickly around his still body.

Udina screamed, and drew a weapon of his own.  Before he could aim or fire, Shepard pulled the trigger as well, ending Udina’s attempt at seizing power in tow with Cerberus.  It was over.

Sparks started flying from one of the nearby elevators, though, and the squad trained their weapons in preparation for more Cerberus agents pouring through.  They relaxed, however, as Bailey and Miranda both stumbled out as the sparks halted and the doors slid open.

He fell as he emerged, and Miranda reached down to offer him support.

“Just a bum leg,” he said, “Cerberus is abandoning the station, Commander.  Free and clear.”

She nodded in response, and said “Good work, team.” As she looked at each of her squad, pausing just a second longer on Victus as a brief smile danced across her features.

Of the remaining councilors, Sparatus was the first to speak up.

“Shepard, I…I don’t know how to thank you.” The turian councilor started, “You’ve pulled us out of the fire too many times to count at this point.  We are forever indebted to you, and I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive the stubbornness we have exhibited over the course of your tenure as a Spectre.” 

The tones in his subharmonics were familiar, and Victus picked up on it right away.  He responded by standing up taller, fringe perking up just slightly in a dominant display.

Sparatus let out a defeated ‘hmm’ before he resumed his thanks.

“I also wanted to say, thank you for securing the support for Palaven that I was never able to.” Sparatus nodded toward the Primarch, and they both tilted their heads downward toward each other in a show of understanding.

“It’s what I do.” Shepard said.  “Let’s get you guys sorted out, and arrange whatever resources we can to get cleanup started.  Might be hard considering everything we’re pouring into the war, but some semblance of normalcy would be good for the station.  I’m sure my crew is willing to help in whatever way they can.  We were slated for some shore leave, but we’re here if you need us, councilors.”

“That is greatly appreciated, Commander.”  Tevos said, “We will let you know, though—you and yours deserve a break.  I would hate to impose, but duty calls I’m afraid.”

“Of course, councilor.” Shepard said.  “I can also help shore up whatever additional resources we might need.  I’m certain sure there are a fair amount of refugees who would be willing to give back, so it would be worth putting out feelers around the docks.”

“Good call, Commander.” Sparatus said, dual-tones taking on the same warmth as before, “We will check there first.”

With a nod, Shepard and her squad turned from the scene and parted ways with the surviving councilors.

“So.” Victus started as they made their way through the wreckage, “Pending my reservations and the buildings themselves still hold, I would be honored if you might join me this evening. But I understand why you might want to mourn the loss of your friend.”

“He hasn’t been a friend for a long time, Adrien.” Shepard’s voice was sad, though not necessarily at the loss, but the fact that mistrust had been the reason for it all. “Can’t make promises,” Shepard replied, “But I could _really_ use a stiff drink.  Check and see if everything is all good, and I would love to join you. I’d say we’ve earned it.”

“Unarguably so.” Victus said with flared mandibles.  He reached his armored hand to grip at Shepard’s armored waist, and the two battle-worn soldiers made their way back to the Normandy.  Perhaps their shore leave wasn’t all lost, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @robinapril


	8. Kithoi (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reprieve.
> 
> NSFW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry for the wait! Life gets busy, but hopefully after this I'll be back to my normal posting schedule.  
> Thanks for bearing with me <3
> 
> Thanks to ShudderShock for the beta love!
> 
> All characters owned by BioWare. I just play with 'em.
> 
> Playlist updated: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXMCaj6Bjd9rM5aEs-whpaZmrh7alrdkn

The lights were dim as the doors slid open, deep red coloring adorned the walls with booths and tables lining the perimeter.  A bar—well stocked with only the finest levo and dextro flavors—was nestled in the cozy atmosphere at the far end of the establishment.

Adrien had warned Viv before they left the Normandy to wear something _nice_ , but she wasn’t prepared for this.  She wore a tight, black leather dress, so she didn’t look _bad_ , per se—just, out of place.  She gave Adrien a sidelong glance as the hostess, a turian female in elegant dress with bold green colony markings, motioned for them to follow.

He had requested a table that was relatively out of sight from the restaurant’s patrons, but Viv noted the availability of private rooms, and had a quiet smile to herself as she considered the fact that Adrien opted against using one—choosing not to caution them being spotted.  Viv didn’t mind one bit.

“This is really, really nice, Adrien.” Viv thanked him, “I wasn’t sure _what_ I was expecting out of a date with a Primarch, but I wasn’t expecting this.  Thank you. Not just for this, for—everything.”

“I told you on our first night together, Viv—you’re admirable, different.”  Adrien started, a soft rumble to his subharmonics. “You deserve it, because I say so.  Plus, I needed to get some use out of those Primarch perks before this all goes to hell.  May as well use them on you.”

Viv laughed quietly, and a waitress—human—arrived at their table to take their drink orders.  She asked for an old fashioned from the list of specials, and Adrien requested their best brandy.  They both picked up their menus and perused the few, but complex offerings of levo and dextro cuisine.  Some dishes were even representations of food from the other’s culture.

“I had no idea a place like this even existed.” Viv said.

“Relatively new.” Adrien explained, “Another attempt at showing humans and turians can do great things together. The tide is changing, Viv.  And we’re at the forefront of it.  I am quite surprised it hasn’t been a media _circus_ , but I suppose they would have more important things to worry about at the moment, wouldn’t you say?”

“No shit.” She said, ungracefully compared to Adrien’s regal demeanor.

Adrien just laughed and flared his mandibles at her in his version of a smile, _her_ smile as Viv had come to know that particular expression.  She smiled right back at him—closed lipped, but it was a smile so bright it lit up the entire Citadel as far as Adrien was concerned. 

This woman had completely enraptured him, ensnared him in her gravity—and he never wanted to leave orbit.  Parting in the near days was eating Adrien alive, and he tried everything he could to focus on her sitting in front of him, and not the imminent _lack_ of her in the days to come.  He got lost in those thoughts, briefly, but Viv was quick to catch his wandering mind.

“Hey, Adrien.”  She started as she reached her hands over the table, seeking his.  He brought his hands out from his sides and slid them palms up on the table.  Viv rested her hands atop his and said, “We have two nights, okay?  Let’s just enjoy this time we have and not think about it.  As much as we can.  I am here with you, you are here with me.  Be here, now.”

Adrien’s mandibles dropped from the sides of his face as he sighed, nodding he said, “You’re right, just—lost in my thoughts, is all.”

The waitress returned with their drinks and they placed their food orders, Viv getting something she could barely pronounce—human _tsudicus_ —and Adrien tried a turian fillet mingon.  The waitress clearly recognized both the Primarch and the Commander, but didn’t so much as spare a glance or crack a grin—Adrien had done well.  Tonight, she was Viv and he was Adrien.  And she wanted to help him remember what that felt like, a feeling he could carry with him when they parted.

“So what do you have planned for the rest of our stay, Adrien?” Viv asked.

“Well.  I figure after this, we can either stick around for some drinks, or go for a stroll around the area.  I know we’re supposed to be resting, taking a break.” Adrien said, “But I would like to see if there are any particular areas that could use some extra support.  I think I can spend some time with you, and direct some resources at the same time.”

Viv just sighed, “You never really do take time to just breathe, do you?”

He hummed in acknowledgment, and retorted, “If I recall, you were the one offering the Normandy’s crew up to help clear the destruction during your shore leave.”

She laughed, saying “Yeah, you’ve got me there.  I suppose people like us can’t really help it, can we?”

Adrien only let out a committal ‘hmm,’ and took a sip of his drink, amber eyes locked on her.

The waitress returned with their food, and the couple thanked her.  Viv and Adrien admired their plates, different than what they were used to and surprised that they could even begin to make human and turian equivalents of the other’s dishes, but it was quite an experience to their palates.  The two cleared their plates, and ordered one more round of drinks before leaving the establishment.

 “Well, where to now, Adrien?” Viv asked as she linked arms with him.

“This way.” Adrien said, pulling her to the right.

They started their walk through the Presidium, arm in arm.  Reporters spared glances at them, but it seemed they were more attentive to interviewing onlookers observing the aftermath of the coup, capturing images of the destruction that littered many places in the area. While they were acknowledged, Viv found it a relief that it seemed that Commander Shepard walking arm in arm with Primarch Victus was the least of their concerns.  She smiled at the thought that she may be able to get a bit of a breather after all.

They walked up to a relatively unscathed bridge over an artificial river; Viv gripped the railing and leaned into Adrien’s side as he wrapped his arm around her waist somewhat awkwardly considering their height difference, but they made it work—they always did.

They looked onward, eyeing the destruction before them. While some storefronts and establishments had remained unscathed, there were many that were very much not, and the rebuilding effort had clear and trying work ahead.  It was a difficult thing to consider.  One side of the coin said that normalcy would be what the station needed, and that cleaning up this disaster would provide that.  The other side of the coin, however, said that such destruction was a _reminder_.  A reminder that this galaxy was at war, and the times in which they lived were anything but normal, and nowhere was _truly_ safe.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Viv asked him, pulling Adrien from his musings.

“Everything.” He started, “All at once.  These people, they need normal lives.  But at the same time, I can’t help but feel that willful ignorance isn’t the best call at a time like this.”

Viv considered his words, and said “I think that these people, whether or not the area gets cleaned and repaired quickly, could take one step down to the docks and be hit with the reminder they need.  They can ignore it all they want, but that doesn’t change the reality.”

They stood in quiet for another moment, enjoying the proximity to one another as they observed the area.  Viv was the first to speak up again.

“Do you think they have any idea of what it’s really like out there?”  Viv asked him.

“Some I’m sure are not ignorant to the reality.” Adrien replied, “But some are sheltered from the truth, and some seek to simply ignore it.  Coping mechanisms.”

Viv only nodded opting for a few more moments of silence.  She broke that silence, taking the conversation away from duty, responsibility, and redirecting it to the here and the now.

“So what now, Adrien?” Viv asked, “What other tricks do you have up those sleeves of yours?”  Her eyes glinted mischievously as she looked back over to him.

“Well.” He started, “We won’t be returning to the Normandy this evening, as I have confirmed my reservations still hold.  Fortunately, my arrangements were relatively tucked away from the chaos.”

She couldn’t hide the excitement in her eyes, the interest was sparked.  “Good news.” Viv said, “Though, I would like to drop by and grab my things, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Of course.” Adrien said, hailing a skycar without revealing his plans.

“We have two days, Viv.” Adrien spoke again, warmth in his tone.  He squeezed at her side, and Viv closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “I want to make the most of every minute.  And I have a few things that I would like to discuss with you, and wanted to ask you to keep an open mind.”  His subharmonics played at slight awkwardness at his last few words.

Viv’s eyebrow quirked at that, she said “Okay, Adrien.”  Her tone was somewhat questioning, somewhat excited, expectant.  She continued, “May I ask what the uh… _nature_ of these discussion items is?”

“I’ll tell you and explain everything once we get settled at our destination.” Adrien said as the skycar arrived.  The two got in, made a relatively fast trip to the Normandy so Viv could collect everything she would need for their stay, _wherever the hell that was_ , she thought.  Fortunately, she had managed to avoid being halted to converse with crew, as they were out getting their chance at relaxation as well. 

She left the airlock, and walked back to where Adrien had been waiting for her.  He made quick work of punching in the details of their destination in the skycar’s interface, and the couple left the docks and proceeded onward.

\---

 

The vehicle roved through Kithoi Ward, through the expanses of skyscrapers and archives and past second homes of prolific galactic figures—politicians, CEOs, decorated military heroes who decided on a more luxurious scene after that of a soldier.  There was money here, and lots of it.  And for the second time that evening, Viv felt out of place. 

She’d never spent much time in these sorts of areas, around people with more assets than they knew what to do with—it felt strange, different—but not _bad_ ; that notion was a surprising one, and Viv felt a pang of insecurity crawl up her spine.

Adrien sensed her feelings of discomfort—she wasn’t wearing her Commander mask tonight; she was considerably more readable, less of a mystery.  She was lost in her thoughts, just as he’d been briefly during their time at the restaurant.  He motioned toward her, clasping her hand in his, and mirrored her offers of comfort from earlier.

“Hmm.” He hummed, drawing her attention toward him.  “What happened to living in the moment, Viv?”

“Actually,” she started, “It’s not that at all. Just…that restaurant, this place—it’s just _different_ for me, is all.  You come from money, don’t you? In your life before all this.”

“Yes.” He said, bluntly and without hesitation. “And who doesn’t like to enjoy nice things? But, I could just as will live my life without them.  I wanted _everything_ for…”  He stopped speaking, cutting off his train of thought.

Viv knew where Adrien was going with his words, and said “I understand.” She briefly paused before continuing, “You want the best for the people you love.”

“Yes.” Adrien confirmed, “Victus is a big name, has been for a long time.  The _reputation_ has its benefits, of course.  But that’s all those things are, Viv.  They’re benefits.  I don’t need them, I don’t _have_ to indulge in them, but if I can share them with those who are important to me, well—there’s no sense in rejecting those sorts of comforts if it means taking care of the people who are important to you.”

“I’d love to hear about her sometime.”  Viv said, warmly in a manner of understanding.  “I’m sure she was a wonderful woman.”

Adrien smiled briefly at a memory of her.  “She was.” He said, “Another time, perhaps.”

Viv smiled and gripped his hand just a little tighter, a gesture of understanding.  The skycar slowed, and they approached their destination—an elegant building, constructed of a rare stone found only in the riverbeds of southern Palaven.  It was dark blue, with iridescence that held a purple undertone.  Veins of what looked like silver threaded through the stacked, angled rocks.  It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

Her eyes went wide and she darted them toward Adrien as a gasp left her lips at the sight of their hotel for the next two days. 

“This is _beautiful_ , Adrien.” She reached her other hand over to him.

“And you haven’t even been inside.” He rumbled, mandibles flicking into _her_ smile.

They got out of the skycar and made their way through the lobby of the Aelias Tower Hotel.

 

\---

 

Their room key was programed onto their omni-tools, and with a wave at the chip on the door, it opened to a large room, bathed in the glow from the Kithoi Ward outside.  Blues and purples and greens flickered across every surface of the place. 

Viv brought her attention back from the window overlooking the ward outside, to the lush surroundings she’d stepped into.  The room was colored in the same cool tones as the outside of the structure, but the iridescence was more muted.  The floors were tiled in a deep grey color, and a large, strangely shaped sofa sat in the middle of the room, along with an oddly proportioned chair, and one that looked more familiar.  _Human and turian furniture_ , she thought with a smile, _cute_.

There were two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, and a considerable bathroom with a large, bowl-shaped tub.  Viv thought it was odd that a hotel room of Adrien’s choosing would have two bedrooms, but the reason for such a strange amenity became clear when he spoke up.

“I want to show you something.” Adrien said as he gripped her hand in his much larger one, and lead her into the first bedroom on the right.  “Remember me asking you to keep an open mind?”

“Of course.” Viv said, and her voice betrayed a slight sense of nerves she felt in that moment, more out of anticipatory excitement than worry.

Adrien just nodded, and flipped the lights on.  As the room was illuminated, Viv understood, and lit up with _his_ smile.

“Turian furniture.” She said, turning to face him and reaching her hands up to rest on his shoulders.

Adrien nodded as he leaned in, brushing his brow to hers briefly before speaking.  “I just thought you might like to try it out.” He said, “And, if I’m allowed the honesty, it _really_ takes a while to get comfortable in your bed, Viv.”  He let out a quiet sigh, then assured her, his voice a comforting purr. “The company makes up for it, believe me—it’s worth a sore back.  But I thought we might see how trying things this way works for the both of us, if you’re open to it.”

“Of course I am, Adrien.” She comforted him, “You could have just asked, you know?”

“Well that wasn’t the only thing I was hoping you’d keep an open mind about this evening.” His words reflected a hint of devious arousal. 

Viv’s interest spiked and she raised a brow, and that glint in her eyes returned.  He loved seeing her bright green gaze light up this way, and it brought Adrien some comfort knowing her willingness to try new things, to understand their differences and see what worked best for both of them. 

The bed was against the wall, directly opposite the door.  It wasn’t rectangular, like a human bed would typically be.  It took on an oval shape, with the middle sunken in slightly inward.  _Like a nest, almost_ , Viv considered.  The thought made her grin, and Adrien guided them toward it, him encouraging her to sit at the edge with him as he did the same.  He turned at his middle to face her, reaching one hand around her waist and the other came to rest at the side of her face.  He cupped her cheek and gently traced a taloned thumb over her cheekbone.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about this for a while.” Adrien started, second larynx emitting a comforting hum as a backdrop to his words.  “There are some things that turians _do_ with serious partners, mates.  And I want to try them with you, if you’re willing.”

Viv opted for her trademark bluntness, and said “Just tell me, Adrien.  If it makes me uncomfortable, you’ll be the first to know. Okay?”  She was trying to reassure him of her openness to him, to everything about him.  The Normandy was far more oriented toward the comforts of humans than it was to turians; she was fully aware of that fact.  He’d made concessions to be with her, and she was more than willing to do the same for him.

A smile fell over Adrien’s features before he launched into his explanation.  “I’ve been wanting to… _tie_ , with you.”

“Tie?”  Viv asked, “What, like bondage? You really thought that would freak me out?”

Adrien only quietly laughed, “No, Viv.  Not like bondage.”

“I think you’re going to have to be a little clearer than that then, Adrien.” She coaxed, “Come on, out with it.”

“I’m sure you’ve felt that I… _swell up_ , when I’m close, you know- during sex?”  It was a statement, but it came out like a question.

Viv only nodded and allowed him to continue.

“Well, it can go a little beyond that.” Adrien explained, matter-of-factly.  “Our bases swell up, get bigger and sort of _lock_ us to our females.  It’s an evolutionary response, traps the sperm inside to increase chances of pregnancy.  Usually, a turian has more control over it the more _experienced_ he is—sometimes a fledgling can do it completely accidentally, I’d imagine that’s quite embarrassing and--.”

Viv interrupted him, “Adrien, you know there’s no way—“ He cut her off quickly.

“I know, Viv.” He said, “It’s just the _gesture_ of it, the act.  The closeness, the intimacy.  I want that, with you.  If, of course, you trust me and you’re willing.  I won’t be hurt if this is a little…out there, for you.”

“I want to understand as much about you as I can, Adrien.” Viv spoke and her eyes drifted closed; she pressed the side of her face more firmly into his hand, and brought her own up to rest on top of it.  “And if this will help me do that, feel closer to you— _of course_ I’ll do this with you.  I’m sorry if I somehow made you nervous about asking me that.”

He hummed something like relief at her words, and he pulled her closer, brushing his brow to hers once more.  “I wouldn’t say _you_ did anything to make me nervous about asking, Viv.” He started, “But these interspecies things are hard to navigate sometimes. It’s been mostly casual before you, and I didn’t want to manage to somehow screw this up.”  Adrien’s eyes flitted downward briefly in a show of mild discomfort, and Viv was quick to abate his nerves.

Viv took a moment, quietly thinking to herself before speaking up again.  “Is there anything you uh…need me to _do_?”

They pulled apart and a chunk of hair fell into Viv’s eyes, and he tucked it back behind her ear and reassuringly said, “No, no.  Just, when the time comes—you’ll need to relax.  And I’ll make sure we can find a comfortable arrangement, okay?”

Viv nodded, before asking “How long does it, you know, _last_?” She twisted her body around to face forward, reaching down to pull off her shoes.

“On the longer end of things, no more than a half an hour.” Adrien answered, “Most often, less than that.”

“Well, you only live once.” Viv remarked, mirth in her voice. “Let’s do this.”

“That _has_ always been one of my favorite human sayings.” Adrien’s mandibles flicked outward as he spoke, his version of a grin.

Adrien was enticed by her sudden wash of encouragement, so once she was free of her shoes and had returned to her previous seated position, he took her hands and planted them firmly on the bed, next to her head as he leaned over her, moving over top of her in a swift, graceful maneuver.

Viv smiled and laughed at his display of enthusiasm, shifting her body under his to find a comfortable position in this new, unfamiliar style of bed.  It was much softer and forgiving than she was used to, and the somewhat bowl-shape of it wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, just— _different_.

She was pulled from her thoughts when Adrien nudged her head to the side, burying his face into the space between her neck and shoulder; he nuzzled there briefly, before darting his tongue out to taste her—he’d scented her, and adored the experience of indulging in their mingling smells.

Viv sighed in response, through a smile that—once again, to Adrien—lit up the very world around her and everything in it; he lifted his head from her, and looked into her eyes, baring his soul and taking in every bit of hers that he could find.

His heart pounded with love for this strange, bizarre human—he wanted to do everything in his power to show her all that she meant to him, provide her with vivid memories of _them_ to carry with her in the days to come, through the tumultuous throes of the weeks ahead, apart.  Adrien tried as hard as he could not to feel pangs of loss at the thought, and he focused once again on this bold, thriving creature below him.

Viv caught his mind wandering again, so she squeezed his hands and hiked her legs around his still-clothed waist; the hem of her dress shifted further up her thighs at the action.  “Come back to me.” She said.

“Always.” He replied with _assurance_ in his subharmonics.

Adrien let go of one of her hands to trail up her now mostly bare thighs.  Viv took advantage of her free hand, bringing it up to the side of his face to trace over the plating.  She trailed gentle fingers up the sweep of his colony markings, exploring him.  He gripped her hip strongly as her fingers brushed over his fringe, sliding up further and further as he hiked her dress up.  Adrien’s thumb rested over her hipbone, other two fingers’ hold tightening on her rear.  He pulled her forward, bringing their hips flush with one another; Adrien emitted a sensual growl as he did so.

Viv arched her back up to get closer, impossibly closer, to him.  She nudged her face below a mandible, and mirrored his action from earlier; she darted her tongue out in a gesture that was familiar to him, tasting the sweet and salty flavor of his skin.

His response was a purr, followed by an involuntary shift of his hips; he rubbed against her most sensitive spot, and she couldn’t bite back the moan that followed.  Viv strengthened her hold on his waist between her legs, and encouraged a shift in position with the tight grip of her toned thighs.  She settled on top of him, Adrien now lying underneath her.

Adrien sat up and reached behind her, pulling down the zipper at the back of her dress that went all the way from the neckline to the bottom hem.  He gently peeled it off her shoulders, sliding the fabric down her arms and pulling it from the rest of her form.  He let out a delighted rumble at the sight of her.

Having had _much_ more practice with turian garments, Viv had a new confidence in relieving Adrien of his clothes as well.  There were clasps and buckles, hidden under a swath of fabric on his left shoulder.  She turned the fabric upward and started undoing his tunic, slowly but eagerly—her fingers worked while his hands wrapped around her waist, her breathing picked up pace. 

Viv admitted to herself that she was mildly nervous about what lied ahead for them, but she was open and willing to having this experience with _him_.  Admiration was quick to replace her nerves, and the sight of his bare torso grounded her in that notion of comfort and familiarity—this _was_ comfortable, familiar.  Their difference in species didn’t hinder that fact, and hadn’t for some time. 

She ran her small hands over the expanse of his plated chest, admiring everything about his alien form as she felt the heat roll off of him; his heart thundered behind his keel.  Gentle fingers found the gaps in plating, and each time Viv prodded at those gaps, the rumbling emanating from Adrien’s chest intensified.  He let a hand deviate from its position on her waist, running it down past her hipbone and to the front of her pelvis.  Adrien dipped a finger just below the band of her simple black panties, tracing the front of them as he stared into her blazing green eyes.

Viv’s chest heaved at the sensation, and she took the hint; she unlocked her legs from around his waist, and pulled back so he could relieve her of the offending fabric.  Adrien took the opportunity to remove his pants in turn—quickly—and reached back over to her, removing her bra eagerly.

He didn’t let Viv resume her position on top, however.  Once Viv’s bra was discarded, Adrien encouraged her to lay down at the top of the bed.  Starting with her right leg, he dragged his talons from her ankle to the top of her thigh, rotating his hand slightly to tease up her slit with the pad of a finger once he reached the junction of her thighs.  She was already dripping wet for him, and the moisture catching on his finger as well as the overwhelming scent of her arousal enveloping them made his eyes narrow. He emitted a low, primal growl—mandibles going slack in an expression of abandon, need taking over.

Adrien brought the slickened finger to her lips after tracing them over her breast, around her hardened nipple; she enthusiastically parted her lips as she gasped, darting her tongue out to taste herself on his finger.  Viv pushed her head forward and sucked on it, and it left her mouth with a _pop_.

“ _Vile human_ ,” he growled down at her.  Viv only grinned back up at him, cheeks flushed red.

The suction on his finger had driven Adrien to quickly lose control over his pelvic plating, and they shifted open as his length slowly came out of its sheath.  It brushed against Viv’s folds, and earned him a pleased sigh.

Deciding that she couldn’t be much more ready for him than she already was, she rolled her hips upward and trapped the tip of his cock at her slick threshold; Adrien understood, and slowly slid forward.  He paused as he hilted himself, as he always did, to allow her a moment to adjust—he always liked waiting until she gave him the all-clear.

And Viv told him as much, and after a few short seconds, she was arching her back and moving her hips up and down in encouragement for him to start moving.  Adrien made slow and deliberate thrusts; he drew back and out, and slowly moved forward so he could feel every last inch of her warm embrace, he’d add just a little extra strength as she fully enveloped him.  He loved the sounds Viv made when he’d thrust against that special spot, deep inside.

Her skin was lightly covered in a sheen of sweat; Adrien licked the small beads of it from her temple and purred as he tasted her.  He made a particularly harsh thrust, and buried his face next to her throat as his mandibles fluttered wildly. 

Viv thought he seemed like he was experiencing something with her that he never had before, despite this not being all that unusual when compared to their other tumbles.  She loved this turian so much, and considered for a moment that if he’d ask to mark her, she would not hesitate in saying yes. 

As every inch of him slowly pulled in and out of her, as every ridge hit the sensitive nerves of her entrance and he’d slowly snap his hips to hit her g-spot with special care, she realized that this was truly the first man she had been with that wanted to take care of _her_.  Species difference aside, this was so different for her, so new—and the moment became bittersweet when she acknowledged the expiration date.

Adrien was as in-tune with her as ever, though.  He slowed his pace even further, and reached his hand to her face to cup her jaw—drawing her gaze sharply to his, gripping the lower half of her face with gentle strength.  He didn’t use words to return Viv to him, however.  He held her gaze, and surged forward— _hard_. Viv screamed in response, overwhelmed with being so full, so _his_. The sounds she made had Adrien quickly losing control, growling and rumbling in more primal ways than she had ever heard him vocalize before.  And she _loved_ it.

She held onto him tightly, bringing her hands up underneath his fringe to massage one of _his_ most sensitive spots.  Adrien’s growling and rumbling grew more intense as she rubbed him there; she felt it reverberating across his entire body, and up through hers;  she felt it both at every place they touched, as well as deep, so deep, inside of her.

A familiar, insistent pressing sensation brushed against the soft, hot walls of her cunt.  She felt it grow and intensify, more pressure there than she had ever felt before.  Through one of her wanton moans, she managed to ask him, “Is it almost time?”

Adrien nodded as he breathed, and keeping himself lodged deeply inside of her, rolled to the side and helped Viv do the same.  He pulled her leg up to rest at his hip spur as he made a few more languid strokes, the base of his length still increasing in size.

Viv didn’t find the sensation to be uncomfortable, but it was wholly new and just _different_.  Before he reached maximum capacity, he reached down and gently stoked her swollen nub as he moved slowly inside of her—not pulling out as much as he was before; the swelling of the base of his cock making that much more of an effort.  Instead, he focused on rubbing against the soft patch of rough flesh inside, stroking her clit as she panted and moaned in reaction to his efforts.

He gave a few more intent motions forward, into her as deep as he could go, and her muscles started their familiar spasms around his length; gasps of pleasure left Viv’s lips. 

The sound coming from Adrien’s chest was the same one she had picked up on when he used the word ‘love’ to describe his feelings for her, to her—once again, she found herself not relying on the necessity of words to express these things to one another. 

Viv’s orgasm crested, and her release was stronger, more intense than it had ever been before—not even with him, but with _anyone_.  Heat washed through her loins, and that flame was built up by Adrien’s release; his already considerable length swelling up inside of her, locking them together as his seed spilled from him.   

They both lied on their sides, locked together and gazing into each other’s eyes.  Both of their heartbeats were readily audible; Viv reached her hand up to his keel to feel his under her fingertips and Adrien’s palm covered her chest to do the same.

“ _Wow_.” Viv whispered, breathily.

Adrien nuzzled up against her forehead, nodding into her as they made contact.  Viv brought her hand up from his chest to cup the side of his face, and she pulled him in to meet his gesture with a human kiss.

Experimentally, Viv pulled her hips back ever so slightly to test the strength of what bound them together.  As she pulled against his knot, Adrien growled and swiftly placed a hand at the small of her back and pulled her back into him.

“A little sensitive, huh?”  Viv asked, a joke in her tone.

“A little.” Adrien rumbled as his growl ceased.  “Just…hold still.  And don’t do that again, _terrible human_.”

Viv let out a soft chuckle as she rubbed his mandible; he flicked it out into her palm as a smile flitted over his features.

“Is this okay for you?” He asked; Viv had given him no reason to believe that it wasn’t, but he always felt like it was his duty to make sure.

“More than.” She started, voice revealing the comfort the felt at their union.  “It’s… _different_.  But not bad, by any means.  Feels like pressure, it’s warm.”

Adrien let out a pleased sound from his second larynx, a vibrating whisper that traveled through Viv’s core.  She sighed again at that, smiling.  She closed her eyes, taking in every last sensation darting through her body in those moments.  Her head rested on the arm he had wrapped around her, and she had never felt so content in all of her days.

Sounds came from his throat, his chest—completely unbidden.  Adrien was singing his love for her, in his own language.  His admiration, loyalty, _everything_ he felt for this bizarre woman came bubbling to the surface just then.

They’d lied that way for minutes, and Viv felt the pressure in her cunt from his knot decrease.  Shortly thereafter, it was safe to pull away and they both felt utterly and completely empty at the loss of contact.  It was everything as strange and beautiful as Viv had expected, and in that moment she realized that whatever he’d have in store for them, whatever cultural boundaries that he wanted to cross with her— _together_ —she would oblige for as long as she was able, forever and always.

He opened the drawer in the nightstand and grabbed a small washcloth, dabbing away the remnants of his seed that slowly dripped out of her opening.  Viv let him work, admiring his gentleness and efficiency in attending to her in this way.

Satisfied, he threw the rag in a basket off to the side of the bed and he rolled the covers over so they could both slip under them, completely bare to each other yet hidden from the rest of the world outside.

They would both be happy to stay this way forever.

Duty was a cruel beast, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ robinapril


	9. Kithoi (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: this chapter has mentions of a previous non-con situation, as well as issues with pregnancy and fertility. Just thought I'd let you know before you dove in.
> 
> disclaimer: all characters owned by BioWare.
> 
> thank you: to SquigglySquid for beta reading this chapter!

Viv and Adrien laid entangled in each other and the silky black sheets around them. The fabric had a shine, the lights from Kithoi Ward filtering in, intensifying their shimmer.  She felt supported from all angles—Adrien had her nestled comfortably against his chest, arms wrapped around her.  His breathing was smooth, relaxed—even blissful. 

Neither of them had a tense muscle in their bodies. The sunken turian bed, though different than what Viv was used to, felt like resting atop a cloud.  It surrounded them like a nest of warm comfort.

 _I could certainly get used to this_ , Viv sleepily mused to herself.  She stirred, only to maneuver her body to face her turian partner.  She nuzzled against his chest and relished in the warmth he emitted and in the absolute comfort and security that Viv had never once felt—not ever—until these quiet moments together. 

Even as a child growing up in a colony with the galaxy in front of her, she’d never _really_ felt the contentment that she had with Adrien, wrapped in the arms of a man from another species, resting in an unfamiliar type of bed, while staying in the wealthiest part of the Citadel—an area she never once dreamed she’d tread.

Viv draped an arm over Adrien’s narrow waist and lovingly gripped him with tender hands.  He purred and wrapped an arm more tightly around her.  He slowly opened his eyes and Viv felt the rumble in his chest grow louder, calmingly vibrating into her skin and throughout her body.  She spared a glance up at him with those big and beautiful bedroom eyes, unable to wash the lopsided grin from her face. 

“Hey, beautiful.” Adrien purred, greeting her in his oh so very turian way.

“Handsome.” She replied.  They closed their eyes again, no words needed to communicate what they both felt in the other’s embrace.  The moment was interrupted, however, by a ping to Viv’s omni-tool. 

The crew had known not to disturb her unless it was an emergency of utmost importance, and she and Adrien both spared glances at each other in reaction to the intrusion.

“Ugh.” Viv groaned. “This better be good.”

She flipped open the interface, only to find a link to a news article that Garrus had sent her way.  No additional text was needed, as the reason for his message became abundantly clear once she opened the link.

**_Commander Shepard and Primarch Victus: Interspecies Liaison or Political Maneuver?  You Be the Judge._ **

****

The headline was accompanied by a photo from the night before, the two of them standing and talking, arm in arm, on the bridge on the Presidium.

“Well,” Viv started, tilting her face up and looking to Adrien after he had the chance to read the headline for himself.  “Was only a matter of time, I suppose.”

“Let them say what they want, Viv.” Adrien spoke, “You honestly didn’t think that we would make it out of this leave unscathed, did you?”

Viv lazily chuckled. “I suppose not.” She closed her ‘tool back down and snuggled up to Adrien once more, resuming their previous position of comfort and security.  “Just didn’t think it would take less than twelve hours, I guess.”

Adrien only hummed, flicking a mandible against the top of her head in reassurance.

“Whatever blowback comes of this,” Adrien started, “You know I’ll be right there with you, dealing with it the best I can—even if not there physically, I mean…”

 _That stark reminder_.  _That expiration date I wish would never come._

Adrien knew he said something wrong when Viv promptly flipped over onto her front and buried her face in her pillow with a dramatic groan.

He rested his hand on her back in comfort, humming a quiet apology that Viv didn’t need words to understand.  Adrien rubbed her back; he tried in the best way he knew how to remove the sadness from her form.  He traced a talon from the top of her left shoulder and diagonally across her back, over the expanse of her skin and stopping after moving down to her right hip.

 _My scar. The_ _one that Cerberus just_ had _to leave behind._

It was deeply engrained, the scar left over from the blade that wrought through her muscles—it was a part of her, like her heart, her lungs.  It was less pronounced than it once was, to be sure, but it was a scar nonetheless.  It was only a matter of time before he asked about it.  Viv _had_ wondered about why he hadn’t brought it up sooner—though, on most occasions when they were bare before each other, they had priorities that did _not_ concern comparing old battle wounds.

Adrien felt her tense up and, at that, whispered quietly with a comforting hum, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

She always marveled at how he could predict her, understand the nuances of her body’s reaction to, well—damn near _everything_.  Apparently, the intuition garnered from years of experience transcended cultural boundaries.

“No, uh…” she started, considering how best to approach the memory, “It’s okay.  Mindoir.  When I was sixteen.”

Adrien continued rubbing her back in comforting circles, allowing her to continue if she wanted, but also clearing the way for amicable silence.  He left it up to her.  Her voice flitted back through the room with an uncharacteristic shake.

“They’d already taken my family, I knew they were dead or worse,” Viv started. “I was in my own home, my own bed.  Their blood was strewn through the hallway—I saw it puddling at the gap beneath my door.  My guns were locked up on the other end of our fab unit. There was little else I could do but hide and hope they didn’t hear me crying.”

Adrien didn’t speak, but instead, started making the comforting sounds he once used to ease her nerves before their run on Tuchanka.  He’d do anything in his power to abate her pain, to make it better in whatever little ways he knew how.

“They broke down my door,” Viv started again. “The batarians—three of them—stormed in and knocked me out cold.  Next thing I knew, I was tied down on some slab, screaming while they…”  A quiet sob choked out her speech; not a loud, uncontrolled thing—just a fracture to her tone.  Her strength and conviction remained intact.

“It’s okay.” Adrien rumbled, running his talons through her hair.  She looked over to him; he tucked the loose strands behind her ear.

“When I screamed a little too loud,” she resumed, “they gagged me, and one of them dragged a blade into and down my back.  I should have died, but, by some form of grace, a turian platoon had been close, received the distress signals, and came and saved whoever they could find.  There weren’t many of us left.”

This was the first time she had talked about the memory, had shared it with anyone other than those in the platoon who saved her.  And they only knew because they bore witness to the sight, had seen her covered in blood with a batarian behind her, pants around his ankles.  They weren’t long for this galaxy when the troop stormed in.

Viv didn’t feel a need to go into all of the details—Adrien was a smart man, could fit the pieces together on his own.

Adrien’s rumbles and purrs helped reliving the memory bear less pain—so many years had passed, and as she wanted to know everything there was to know about Adrien. She was certain that he felt the same way about her, and he deserved to know even the darkest, dimmest fragments of her history. 

That scar was just as much a part of her as her eyes, her hands, her feet. She understood that this was a part of her that she shouldn't—couldn’t—hold back from him in order to give him the entire picture that was Viv Shepard.  If she were blunt with herself, it was cathartic in its own, sick way.

“Haven’t even told Garrus about that one,” Viv revealed.  Adrien pulled her close when she rose back to her side, and rested his forehead against hers. 

Adrien took it as a cue; such a revelation, such a painful memory—he felt it was only fair that he come forward, and abate some of his grief.  His grief was that which he had no choice but to hide, to trudge forward with—always in tow, never addressed.  Adrien considered that this must have been how Viv felt. Strength was expected of her, and to show any sort of weakness was an affront to those who depended on her, and to her own resolve.

“My mate and I served aboard the same vessel,” Adrien started. “We’d met at the academy, she’d been training as an engineer.  So _smart_ , beautiful.”

Viv brought a hand up to his right mandible, stroking it gently in comfort.

“Years and years we’d served together,” Adrien continued. “And then she became pregnant with Tarquin a few years after we bonded.  She had never looked so alive, when we found out.  It was like her plates shined as soon as we got the news, she glowed like nothing I’d ever seen before—I called her my little supernova.”  He closed his eyes, flicking a mandible out in a smile at the fond memory of her.

“The pregnancy went smoothly, up until the last few weeks.”  The sadness in his tone replaced the fondness from before.  “Turians don’t gestate for nearly as long as humans do, five human months at the most. We had about a month to go, and she started getting these terrible pains.  Doctors put her on bedrest, but that wasn’t enough.  She went into labor early—I understand humans with premature babies have a far greater survival rate than turians do.  Just a few weeks are critical to the development of a turian.”

“Just because I shared my traumatic past doesn’t mean you have to share yours, Adrien.”  Viv interrupted him, “If you don’t want to talk about this, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Adrien stated, “You should know.  This is just as much a part of me as your scar is to you, except mine isn’t marred in my flesh.  I’ve had the option to hide my struggling, and that’s something you’re not afforded unless adorned in armor.  I am choosing, now, to remove my armor before you.”

 _Always a way with words_ , Viv considered.  “I understand,” she said.

“So we had to make a choice,” Adrien resumed. “They could save Tarquin, putting him in intensive care and hope for the best, at the cost of potentially losing Trysia during the operation.  Or they could terminate the pregnancy and ensure her survival.”

“An impossible decision.” Viv remarked, “Those just never go away, do they?”

“No.”  Adrien sadly spoke. “And with the kind of woman Trysia was, the latter was never an option.”

“I hadn’t realized that you raised Tarquin on your own,” Viv said to him as she entwined her fingers with his.

“I’ve no doubt that to any parent, losing a child is the worst thing one can bear,” Adrien started. “But when Tarquin died, I felt like the last part I had left of Trysia died right along with him.  He was all I had left of her, and now they’re both just—gone.”

“I can’t begin to imagine what that must feel like.” She drew up his palm and placed light kisses over his knuckles. “But you know that I’m here for you now.  And I know I’m not a replacement, and I would never pretend to be.  But you can lean on me, and don’t forget it.”

“Of course.”

Adrien felt pains in his sides at even those two words— _how can we lean on each other from opposite ends of the galaxy?_ He considered the question he asked himself as his eyes drifted closed, relishing in the proximity that he had to Viv now.  It was finite, drawing to a close—and, while Adrien had total faith in her capabilities, all bets were off in this war.  He knew that Viv was quite capable of ending it, but also realized the extent to which she understood the costs of a war like this. She would end it, even if that meant sacrificing herself. 

He knew this because he would do the same damn thing.

Viv interrupted his musings when she said “I’ll be blunt with you, Adrien.”  She paused briefly, and resumed. “I did not expect to find _this_ ,” she motioned between them after freeing her hand from his grasp. “With anyone.  Ever, really. But now I’m having a really hard time thinking about what these next steps are going to look like without you around.  I’m probably as surprised about this as you are, but you’ve quickly become so, so much to me.  Not just because—you know—I love you and all, but our biggest successes thus far have come from my team working together with you and yours.  This just…isn’t going to be easy without you, is all.”

“Hmm.” He pulled her close and then kissed the top of her head, and said, “You know that I’ll do everything in my power to aid you while I’m playing politician, right?” 

He felt _dirty_ just at saying the word.

“Just won’t be the same, is all,” Viv said, mournfully.

They laid still in silence for some time.  At moments, they both thought quietly to themselves about the days to come.  At others, they tried as they might to just simply _be_.

Adrien was the one to finally break the companionable silence, with a question.

“Is that mind of yours still open?”

“Always,” Viv replied.

He met her lips in a human kiss, tongues briefly gliding against each other.  Adrien pulled away and broke the kiss, but leaned back in to linger just a _little_ longer.  When he got up and headed to the bathroom, Viv closed her eyes, listening to the sound of running water queuing up. 

She heard some muffled rustling, and called out, “What’re you doing in there?”

“Patience.” He replied.

 _Smug bastard_ , she thought with a shake of her head and a crooked smile.

She laid there for some time longer and, after more quiet shuffling and the water shutting off, Adrien stood in the doorway and held out his hand; he said nothing, only stood there—stark naked, tall and confident, telling her he was ready.

Viv locked eyes with him and stepped off of the bed to go to him, curiosity in her eyes.

He guided her into the bathroom, filled with steam and something like the aromatherapy vapors she’d smelled on the Citadel a few times.  Next to the large, round tub, was a table with a travel case holding the most beautiful set of brushes she’d ever seen.

The set of five had bristles varying in length, stiffness, and the quality of softness or harshness of the hairs; the handles looked something like obsidian, but with a pearl iridescent undertone.  They were smooth, with contours to comfortably fit turian hands.

Adrien allowed her to observe, and when her eyes met his again he spoke.

“In the mood for some more interspecies awkwardness?” He asked.

Viv cracked a smile and said, “Hell, after last night, I think I can handle anything you want to throw at me, Adrien.”

He laughed, warm and quietly.  “I’m afraid that this might be disappointing for you, then.  Preening—self-care, showering, polishing our plates—another gesture of turian intimacy.  Was wondering if you’d like to join me this time.”

“Of course I would.” For something like this, she didn’t even really need to think about it.  They’d showered together before, and this wasn’t all _that_ strange or different.  The brushing and scrubbing was new, but the act itself was in the same spirit of the showers they’d shared many times before.  She had noticed, however, they he only really ever washed her hair and never scrubbed her body.

“This is a big deal for you,” she said, matter-of-fact.

“Not in as much as what we shared last night, to be sure,” Adrien started.“But this is another show of trust, of that closeness that I feel with you.  And don’t worry, I’ll show you what to do.”

At that, he guided her toward the tub and their naked forms stepped in.  Adrien leaned up against the side, legs sprawled out in front of him at an angle as to not crush his leg spurs.  Viv straddled him, cradled between his torso and legs that were angled upward to support her.

He reached over to the tray and grabbed the largest brush from the case.

“This one is for the larger plates.” Adrien started teaching her by gesturing to his cowl, chest, and keel.  He opened a container that held a viscous, gritty scrub. Viv dipped her hand to get a generous amount, smoothing it lovingly over his front and around his cowl.  He handed her the brush after the scrub was smoothed over his plates in mostly even layers.

“Don’t worry about being too harsh,” he instructed as Viv hesitated.  She ran her fingers along the bristles to get a feel for how wiry they were.  Without further ado, she smiled that loving smile and brushed the bristles over his keel in small circles.

Adrien watched her as he braced his hands on the sides of the tub, unable to contain the purr that left his chest.  Warmth, not only from the water around them, coursed through his body as Viv polished him.  Her face was intent, focused, as if her actions now were the most important she’d ever performed.  Adrien admired her determination in the task.

Satisfied with the buffing that she’d performed to his chest and cowl, he reached over to grab one of the smaller brushes, with finer bristles. 

“Fringe and facial plates,” he motioned.

“Do I have to worry about getting any of this stuff in your eyes?” Viv asked.

Adrien let out a quiet snort of laughter at her concern. “I’d prefer if you didn’t rub sand in my eyes, but do what you must.”

She rolled her eyes at him and smiled wide as she dabbed a small amount of the scrub over his forehead and over the spines of his fringe.  She felt him struggle to keep his pelvic plates closed at her attentions, giving him a _look_ of acknowledgment.

Adrien held fast though, always a master at controlling most situations he found himself in.

His chest rumbled as Viv’s fingers danced across his face, gentle strokes smoothing the sandy scrub over his plates in even layers.  She took the brush from his hand, trailing it over the plates on his cheeks, his mandibles, and up through and between the elegant spines of his fringe.  She was careful to be gentler on his colony markings, unsure at how the paint would stand against the bristles and pressure she applied.

When she took the brush to the underside of his fringe, it perked up like a bird’s feathers as a very, _very_ , pleased rumble left Adrien’s chest and his mandibles went slack at the sides of his face.

Viv quietly chuckled at his reaction, then asked him, “I take that as a good reaction?”

“You have no idea,” he replied, closing his eyes and reaching for the contour of her waist.  He gently gripped her here, anchoring himself as she continued to work.

He hadn’t allowed another soul to aid him in polishing his plates, and relished in the closeness that he felt to Viv in these quiet, tender moments together.

After she’d finished tending to his fringe, he directed her to the other brushes used on the smaller plates of his arms, his shoulders, and eventually his pelvic plates.  Shockingly, he maintained control.  This wasn’t about sex—it was a show of utmost trust, of letting himself go to be attended to in the arms of another.  Adrien felt that he could do to stay like this forever; he was content to stay with this woman, in this tub, in this little slice of paradise—for the rest of his days.

The bathroom was well stocked, so she reached for some body wash of her own and opened the container; the smell of lavender and lemon zest draped over their senses. He stopped her before she had the chance to squeeze some into her hands.

She smiled at his abrupt halting, and allowed him to go to work.  Adrien smoothed the soap over her chest, her breasts, down to her abdomen, and he spent just a little extra time at her hips and waist.  Viv reached up and rested her hands on his shoulders, closing her eyes and embracing every loving touch, caress, and grip; Adrien loved seeing her let go like this, for him and only him.

Once he was content in tending to her, they both just stopped and held each other, staying still and taking in every point of contact they had.  Adrien supported her with his legs, and Viv leaned back as he rested his head against her chest and his subvocals told her everything she needed to know.

 

\---

 

They took their time getting ready for the day, and just as they were about to leave the hotel and grab a bite to eat, Viv’s omni-tool pinged once more—the _second_ interruption of the day. 

“The Council,” she revealed. “They want both of us down there in an hour to meet. Any idea what this is about?”

“Hmm.” Adrien pondered, “I’m not sure.  Short notice, too.  Politicians have absolutely zero respect for others’ time.”  His tone was disdainful, and he was having a difficult time resigning to the fact that he was now among their ranks.

Viv huffed a sigh of frustration, and they made their way down to the ground floor and head to the Council chambers.

Once they arrived, Sparatus’ assistant directed them to his office where he and the asari councilor Tevos awaited.

“I’m well aware of your leave, Commander,” Sparatus started.“And I apologize for the intrusion, sincerely.  But this couldn’t wait, as we’d like to provide you with time to prepare, depending on your decision to what we are about to present you.”

“We think you’ll be happy.” Tevos said.

“Alright.” Viv’s impatience wove through her tone, “Let’s hear it.”

Sparatus laid out his quandary.  “After the attempted Cerberus coup, it’s come to our attention that additional preparations are needed to ensure galactic stability for the time after the Reapers have been dealt with.  We realized, then, that nowhere is _truly_ safe, and we must take measures to ensure some semblance of leadership remains intact when all is said and done.”

Viv and Adrien listened with rapt attention.

Tevos resumed Sparatus’ line of reasoning.  “As a precautionary measure, Councilor Sparatus and myself will be relocating our base of operations to the Destiny Ascension. Conducting business from there will allow us to quickly escape should anything dire happen to or on the Citadel.  The attempted coup was a reminder—control can quite easily slip from our grasp.”

Sparatus spoke up again, “We are recommending, Primarch Victus, that you continue using the Normandy as your base of operations.”

Victus’ mandibles splayed outward in surprise, and Shepard’s eyes went wide with much the same emotion.  The looked at each other, before Shepard spoke up again.

“How would that _work_?” she asked. “I mean, the Primarch is welcome to stay aboard the Normandy for as long as he’d like, but how’s he going to lead his people from there?  The logistics of this is…”

“We knew you’d ask that,” Sparatus interrupted her. “The Normandy is equipped with a well-connected QEC.  And, you have the Shadow Broker among your ranks.  I think the Primarch will find a way to manage.  He _was_ able to ready a fleet to assist you in your operations on Tuchanka, was he not?”

“Wait, how did you know about the Sh-”

Sparatus cut her off. “Much like your Broker, one of our jobs _is_ to know things, Commander.” His tone was joking, rather than the usual condescension that riddled his speech.  _A welcome change_ , Shepard considered.

“Fair enough.” Shepard rebutted with a smirk.

 Victus hadn’t spoken up yet, and seemed to be quietly mulling over his options.  His poise was tall, hands clasped behind his back; his mandibles twitched at the sides of his face in concentration.

“I can’t seem to think of a reason that this isn’t the best course of action,” Victus stated, finally breaking his evaluation of likely every angle of the option presented to them.  “Keeping our leaders mobile makes sense, and with the access afforded the Normandy and the frequency with which the vessel returns to the Citadel, I think we can make it work.”

Shepard’s face lit up, elated at his willingness to play along.  She looked over to him with a smile, _his_ smile.

“One thing, though,” she said, looking away from Victus and back to the two councilors.  “If he stays aboard, we’ll uh…be sharing my cabin.”

Tevos only smiled and quirked a brow at them, seemingly unsurprised; she probably saw the headlines earlier that day. 

Shepard glanced over to Sparatus, a quiet thrum spilling from his subvocals, and Victus perked up at the noise—fringe bristling, mandibles twitching in what looked like aggravation. 

Sparatus had made his intentions clear to him when they met after the coup attempt was resolved; he wanted Shepard, and he wanted her _bad_.  Victus could hear it coming from his second larynx both times he’d been in the presence of them simultaneously, and Shepard likely had no idea.

Apparently, his previous display in response to Sparatus behavior toward the Commander was not enough to thwart the councilor’s intentions. 

Shepard could only look at the two turians, confused, unaware of the nuances of this little exchange— _she’d ask Adrien about this strange bullshit later_. 

It was like a turian version of a human stare-down, Adrien standing tall with his fringe puffed up, and Sparatus thrumming and growling under his breath in return.  Shepard wasn’t quite sure just _what_ the best approach to break something like this up was, so she went with the human approach, the _Shepard_ approach—change the subject, and get moving.

“Okay, uh…not sure what all _this_ is, really.”  Shepard interrupted the interaction, “But if we’re doing this, we have to get our ducks in a row.”

Both of the turians looked at her like she was insane.

“Not _actual_ ducks, okay?” She said, “It means we need to get our shit together.”

“Why can’t humans just say what they mean?” Victus asked, feigning exasperation.

Shepard laughed at the mental image that the two must have been having.  “It means we have a lot to get done, and we should get moving.”

“Right.” Sparatus composed himself, and both he and Victus ended their displays. Shepard marveled at the powers of interspecies awkwardness by way of human idioms.

“Commander.” Victus summoned her attention. “The Hierarchy had already furnished me with a Citadel office.  I have some things I will need sent aboard the Normandy, and in working with your Shadow Broker and having my Reaper Adviser on board, we can definitely make this work.”

“I am glad you have accepted our offer, Primarch.” Tevos thanked him, relief evident in her tone.

“It seems like the best strategic decision.” Victus commended the asari councilor, “We still need to play an active role in the galactic community, but we need to ensure some semblance of structure for when we survive this.”

Shepard felt warmth grow in her chest at his use of the word _when_.

“We’re glad you see it our way.” Sparatus sounded relieved at their decision, his tone took on that of at least a slightly calmer turian councilor.  “We have more meetings throughout the day to serve these same purposes.  I’m afraid we must dismiss this.  But thank you, for taking this opportunity.”

The Primarch only nodded in acknowledgment as they left Sparatus’ office.

\---

They could barely keep their hands off of each other on the way back to the hotel and when they returned to their room, they stripped each other bare and fell into each other’s arms as they tumbled into the bed.

They smiled at each other, laughed, and bathed in the feeling of elation over their chance to remain close, within reach, and they collapsed into each other.  Adrien draped himself over her, and slid inside. 

They rocked into each other until their need for sleep won out over desire.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ robinapril


	10. Elated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW
> 
> Shout out to SquigglySquid, as she left me a little prompt and I worked it into this chapter :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ShudderShock for the beta love, and the lovely art!
> 
> Characters owned by BioWare.

After their meeting with the Council, and being offered the opportunity to have Adrien stay aboard the Normandy, they had their own _private_ celebration back at the hotel.

Adrien and Viv had taken the time over the course of their brief shore leave learning more about each other than either had revealed to anyone, not only on a physical level, but also in the layers they peeled off of each other.  They bared themselves to each other, willingly, and in more ways than one.  The feeling of being so exposed to another individual consumed her, but Viv was happy to let it. 

The next morning, they lazily stayed entwined with one another, relishing in the feeling that their contact was no longer finite, no longer had the expiration date that it had before.  In those moments that relief washed over them, Viv felt a new vigor in viewing the days ahead.  She knew the road before them was still a difficult one, but she no longer felt like it rested on her shoulders alone. 

That notion of security, the one that she always felt when nestled in Adrien’s embrace, started following her around, even when not in direct physical contact with him.  It was wholly new, different than any sentiment she held toward a partner before.  She always felt better with him by her side, and that feeling stayed with her in knowing that the days and weeks before them would be spent on the Normandy, _together_.

While their 48 hour reprieve didn’t seem to last _nearly_ long enough, Viv felt that call to arms drift back into her awareness.  She felt recharged, though—for more reasons than the rest alone.  Laying out her burdens before Adrien helped her compartmentalize her past, to a degree that she felt some of the weight she bore from her memories of Mindoir to slowly lift, to drift away if only a small amount.  She’d never let someone in to that extent, and she felt an unfamiliar swell in her gut of _release_. 

Viv felt— _happy_ , despite the galaxy’s state of decay.  In truth, that happiness she felt led to a burdensome notion of guilt—that she, leading the charge against the Reapers as worlds burned and societies crumbled, could find happiness at a time like this.

She halted her musings, and rose from the bed to get dressed; they needed to pack their things, and head back to the Normandy. 

As she pulled on her black and red N7 t-shirt, she spoke up as she pulled the hair that got stuck in her collar out, and tucked her dog tags underneath.

“So, do you have everything you need for your _Primarchly_ duties aboard the Normandy?”  Viv always made a joke of his title when she used it in private, by way of a teasing lilt at the moniker.

“I believe so,” Adrien answered, only giving her a stern glare at the use of his title.  “It wasn’t much, seeing as how I’ve decided to leave the office furnishings here.  All I really needed were datapads and the terminal provided by the Hierarchy.  Simple enough.”

“Any idea where on the Normandy you’d like to set up?” Viv asked him, “You’re welcome to use my desk, I’m hardly ever there.  Though I figure you’d want to stay close to the War Room.”

“I think I can manage the desk work in your quarters,” he said.  “And yes, I’ll be spending the majority of the time either in the War Room coordinating efforts with the krogan and our fleets, or meeting with Adviser Vakarian at his station. Will keep me close to the Shadow Broker as well.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out then, huh?”  Viv’s tone was sweet, happy.

“If it meant getting to stay aboard with you,” Adrien responded.  “I’d be content to work in the space below the Engineering deck.” 

They only looked to each other and smiled, as they gathered their things for their return to the Normandy.

 

\---

 

Viv hadn’t informed the crew yet that Adrien would be remaining aboard, though she wasn’t all too concerned about it.  In truth, he’d grown to be just another welcome presence on the Normandy.  It seemed to be good for Garrus, too—having another turian on board.  The two seemed to have formed a bond during their tenure on Menae, and the three of them settled into a comfortable camaraderie. 

Despite Shepard’s personal interest in the Primarch, he just seemed to fit in with everyone else, too.  He worked well with Liara, when she would present information to him in hopes he would find nuances that she’d missed. 

Liara wasn’t sloppy, no—not by any means.  But, asari and turian brains worked _differently_ , and stronger solutions and necessary actions were best formulated with eyes looking, calculating from many different angles, with different experiences and strengths to call upon.  She welcomed his perspective, and he was happy to give it. 

Before Tuchanka, he worked well with Traynor, EDI, Mordin, Eve, and surprisingly—even _Wrex_.  It was a rare gift that the Primarch had, and one he would hate to ever admit. He _was_ a good politician and knew how to get things done, both in terms of military action and in doling out diplomacy.

Victus and Shepard got through the airlock and quickly ran to their cabin to deposit their things before asking EDI to call a meeting to the lounge.  She’d break the news, and get a chance to have some drinks with her crew to catch up with them and hear about how they used their leave, as well as discuss any ideas for what lay ahead.

The two took the elevator down, and were the first to arrive.  They made their way to the well-stocked bar to pour themselves some drinks, and sat comfortably on the nearby couch in wait for the rest of the crew members to arrive. 

Shepard and Victus enjoyed amicable conversation, and were interrupted as the door hissed open and Garrus stepped in.  Without preamble, and with a cocky stride in his step, spoke up, “So.” His mandibles flicked out in a characteristic smirk, “Catchy headline the other day, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh, shove it,” Shepard teased, “You know as well as I do Al-Jilani has nothing better to do with her time.  She’s the only one with a damn negative word to say about it.”

“Fair enough.” Garrus waved a hand in dismissal, “Other outlets _are_ reporting on it, just so you know.  But so far, so good.  I’m impressed.”

“Eh, this Primarch is smarter than he looks,” Viv joked.

Victus raised a brow plate at the both of them. “I knew you kept me around for a reason,” he spoke, subharmonics full of mirth.

Garrus had a look of mild confusion cross his features, and he asked, “Is there something I’m missing here?”

“Hmm.” Victus only hummed in response, giving Garrus a teasing quirk of a mandible; they were waiting to break the news of his more permanent residence aboard the ship until most of the crew made their way to the lounge.  He grabbed another glass, filling it halfway full with what seemed to be a dextro version of whiskey, and handed it over to Garrus.  The three clinked glasses in the human version of a toast, effectively halting Garrus’ line of questioning.

 The three caught up on the last few days over shared beverages, and the rest of the crew started filtering in.

Liara sat with them after making herself a Thessia Sunrise.  She regaled them with tails of her latest Shadow Broker exploits, and Shepard commented about the councilors’ awareness of her identity and function. 

Liara softly chuckled at Shepard’s surprised reaction, and said, “The Shadow Broker works with powerful people across the galaxy, Shepard.”  Liara laughed before she resumed, “It never crossed your mind that I might be working with the occasional politician?”

“I have to give it to you, Liara,” Shepard’s tone sounded proud, “I’m impressed. Timid archaeologist to rubbing elbows with galactic leadership, never would have seen it coming.”

Liara only smiled and bowed her head in silent acknowledgement of Shepard’s commendation. The doors slid open once more, and the majority of the crew had arrived together. 

James and Cortez were having an argument about groundside vehicles as they entered—Shepard had heard this argument _countless_ times, and when she was tasked with being the tie-breaker, the Mako always held a special place in her heart.

Joker and EDI walked in together.  They hadn’t set course for their next destination yet, so the both of them were comfortable with leaving the helm for the time being.  Traynor and a few other crew members gathered in a corner after fixing their drinks.

Satisfied that everyone who really _needed_ to hear their announcement was there, Shepard stood up and sat on the bar, letting one leg dangle over the edge while she tucked the other casually underneath her.  She called the room to give her their attention, and launched into her explanation.

“First things first.” Shepard took another sip of her drink before resuming, “I hope that the last 48 hours have treated you well, despite our interruption and the start of our leave.  You’ve all been working really hard, and deserved a breather.  Hope you had a chance to enjoy it.”

The crew raised their glasses and nodded in silent ascent.

“While we were enjoying some time together,” Shepard motioned toward Victus with a nod.  “The Council contacted us with an interesting proposition, a cautionary approach to ensure stability for the future.”

Joker piped up, “Wait, are you telling me those morons are finally listening to you?  Are you feeling okay, Commander?”

“I was probably as surprised as you are, Joker.” She lifted her brow and shook her head from side to side, a show of her initial disbelief and resulting surprise.  “After the attempted coup, they realized that it might be wise to make plans for the future, for when we defeat the Reapers.”

She could see the wash of hope that settled over the crew—Shepard wasn’t speaking in _ifs_ anymore, but _whens_. “So, they’ve decided to keep the major leaders in the galactic community mobile.  They’ll be staying on the Destiny Ascension, doing business from there.  And, they recommended that the Primarch stay aboard the Normandy to keep him mobile as well.”

“If you’ll all have me, of course,” Adrien interjected. “It would be an honor to continue serving among you.”

Shepard glanced over to him and they shared a silent smile before she spoke up again.  “With our QEC access, the Shadow Broker, and the Reaper Adviser on board, we figured that the Primarch basing his operations here wouldn’t be much different than the resources he had available to him on the Citadel.”

“I’ll be willing to use my resources in whatever way I can to assist you, Primarch,” Liara offered.  “Stop by my office when you have the opportunity and I can show you how to access anything you’d need.”

“Thank you, Liara.” Victus bowed his head in a show of gratitude.

“This makes things a _hell_ of a lot easier,” Garrus spoke up.  “Makes more sense for the Reaper Adviser to actually be able to _advise_ in person.  Never thought I’d say this, but good on the Council for this.  Probably one of the better calls they’ve made.”

“We thought so, too.” Victus agreed.  “There is one caveat, though, that I think your Commander would like to speak with you about.”

Everyone in the room turned their attention to Shepard, and Garrus crossed his arms over his chest in wait for how she was going to break _this_ news to the crew.  She and Victus hadn’t explicitly _told_ Garrus that they’d be sharing her cabin, but he knew it was coming.  The crooked smirk he wore told her as much.

“Some of you might not be aware,” Shepard began.  “That the Primarch and I have become rather… _fond_ of each other.” 

Victus stepped toward her at her words, and reached his hand over to take hers, fingers entwining in their familiar arrangement. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Joker interrupted them. “Saw the headlines.  Don’t think for a minute that the two of you were fooling anyone.”

Shepard laughed, then EDI spoke up.  “I told Jeff to maintain composure over you and the Primarch’s relationship, Commander.  He wanted to send you more examples of human and turian relations, but I convinced him that his efforts to bring you and Garrus together with the same methods had been more than sufficient.”

The room erupted in laughter at the revelation—Shepard hadn’t quite made _that_ particular story common knowledge, and her cheeks flushed red in response.

“I can assure you, Joker,” Shepard interrupted the boisterous laughter that filled the room.  “That won’t be a problem.”

A few of the crew members made cat call whistles, while others just wore smiles that said, _we’re happy for you_.

Victus spoke up, “We just wanted to ensure there were no _surprises_ when we both retire to the captain’s cabin.”

The crew just laughed, good naturedly.  They understood that comforts at a time like this were few and far between, and for their illustrious commander to find comfort in and with the Primarch, well—they couldn’t really complain.  This was good, for everyone.  They recognized that, and Shepard was grateful.

The crew had a few more drinks, continuing in their friendly banter as they all caught up with each other in discussion of how they spent their leaves, if not together.  It seemed like the crew had gotten the chance at relaxation they needed, if only for a short time.  It felt good, knowing that they felt ready to take on the next steps.  Their downtime served as a reminder of what this fight was even about.  Their very way of life was hanging by a thread, and it was their job to make sure that thread remained intact.

People started retiring for the evening, and Shepard took a moment of quiet as they started meandering back to their respective quarters to check up on her omni-tool, to relay to Joker where their next stop would be.

“Joker,” Shepard drew his attention as she stepped toward him.  He was standing next to EDI as they stared out of the observation window, into the throng of ships arriving and departing from the Citadel.  “Think you can set us on a course to Eden Prime when you guys get back to the bridge?”

“Sure thing, Commander,” Joker confirmed.  “Back to where it all began, eh?”

Shepard chuffed, “Yeah.” She took another sip of her drink, “Cerberus this time.  Got a message from Hackett about them occupying the colony, holding some Prothean artifact.  Might help our cause, it’s worth a look.”

“You got it,” he assured her, and paused before speaking again.  “I’m happy for you, you know.  Primarch’s a bit of a stiff, but he’s a good guy.  Glad you’re able to carve out a little slice of happiness in all this.”

“I appreciate that, Joker.” Shepard smiled warmly at him, pulling up her glass for another sip of her drink.

“And who knows,” Joker said, “Maybe you’ll help remove that stick that’s lodged so _firmly_ up his ass.”

Shepard only rolled her eyes in response, before saying “That’ll be all.”  The two shared a short laugh, and she made her way back to Victus who was, animatedly, talking strategy with Garrus.

“Sorry to interrupt, boys,” She said as she stepped over to them.  “It’s been a damn long day, and I’m beat.  Joker’s setting us on course to Eden Prime for our next stop.  Cerberus is holding some Prothean artifact and I’d like to check it out.  Primarch, feel free to stick around as long as you’d like, but I’m fixing for a quick shower and some sleep.  Meet me up there when you’re done?”

Victus bowed his head, and Shepard reached over and gripped his hand briefly as he leaned down and kissed the side of her head. 

“I won’t be too much longer,” he said.  “Be seeing you soon.”

“I’ll hold you too that.”  Shepard smiled _his_ smile, and left the lounge to retire to the cabin.

 

\---

 

Viv got out of the shower and dried off, wrapping the towel around her as she left the bathroom to seek her nightwear.  Just as she opened the drawer, the door to her cabin hissed open and a very relaxed looking Adrien waltzed in.  She smiled at him as he walked over to her.

“Someone’s having a good night,” Viv said through her grin, welcoming the sight of his loose stature—so different than how he usually carried himself.

“I really, really am,” Adrien confirmed, stepping over to her in long, quick strides.

She felt the uncontained purr coming from him as he reached for her waist and brushed his brow with hers.

Viv closed her eyes, humming in return as she smiled.

“I can’t help but wonder if you, if _this_ , is all just a really good dream.”  Adrien’s voice was subdued, subharmonics thrumming louder at his words.

She reached up to the side of his face and cupped his right mandible as she opened her eyes to meet his gaze.

“I can assure you,” she started, “that this is most _certainly_ not a dream.”

Adrien seemed to briefly contemplate her words, before saying “I would imagine if this _were_ a dream, that we wouldn’t have been brought together by our worlds burning.”

“Yeah,” Viv whispered, sadness in her tone at the reminder that the Reapers were, in fact, the reason for this opportunity, for this release with him.  “Think we would have found our ways to each other if it weren’t for them?”

“Doubtful.” His response was matter of fact, but he spoke up again and reminded Viv of his attitude toward _what ifs_.  “But we try our best not to dwell on what ifs, right?”

“Right.” She said.  At that, the mood between them shifted back to the lighter tone it bore at his arrival to their cabin.

 _Their cabin_. 

Viv reached her other hand up so she was holding both sides of his face, and she pulled him down to meet his mouth plates in a human kiss.  She’d never expected it to feel as comfortable as it did, but now she couldn’t imagine a life without those stiff-lipped kisses she had come to adore. 

Adrien rumbled at the contact, and wrapped his hands more tightly around her waist.  He slipped one hand inside of the towel to make contact with her skin, while the other hand rested over the fabric and he lazily caressed the bottom bones of her ribcage with his thumbs.

He bent further down to nuzzle the side of her neck; his mandible rubbed the skin there slowly, gently, as he inhaled her scent.  A scent that, he considered, started to seem like it was _missing_ something.  Something personal, something _Adrien_.

Feeling confident in Viv’s attitudes toward their cultural differences, he didn’t hold back once the thought occurred to him. 

“I want to make you _mine_ ,” he softly growled out. 

Viv’s knees went weak, and she asked, “What do you mean? I’m already yours as far as I’m concerned.”

“I want to mark you.”  His response was an aroused purr.  Adrien pulled her to him so their bodies were flush, fitting together in a way that nature never intended.  “I want to smell myself on you whenever you walk into a room.”

Viv felt a familiar heat drop to her center, and she reached up to the sensitive spot beneath his fringe to incite him further.  “I thought you already could,” she breathily said the words, “Wrex smelled you on me.”

Trying to have this conversation became all the more difficult when Adrien licked up her neck to the underside of her chin, its rough texture causing goosebumps to pebble over her flesh.

“I was hoping that you’d agree to something a little more…” Adrien thrusted his hips against her before he finished his statement, “Permanent.”

Viv lightly gasped in response, and asked “What do you need from me?”

“Permission.” He answered, running his teeth along the side of her neck, and then licking over the trails they left behind.

“Granted.” was all she said. 

She trusted him, and if it was something that he didn’t think that she would be on board with, he’d explain himself.  Viv was willing to give herself to him in whatever way their relationship demanded, and the permanence of what he was asking didn’t scare her in the least. 

He’d been the only _real_ match she’d ever had, and couldn’t imagine—even after the war—finding _anyone_ on such an even keel with her. 

She was his, and she knew it.

Adrien rumbled at her consent, and grabbed the edge of the towel that was still wrapped around her to pull it from her form.  It pooled at her feet, and she was exposed to him from head to toe.  He stepped back a bit, just to take in the sight—he was still fully clothed, standing tall and hungry, looking ready to pounce like the predator he was.

Viv met the hungry look in his eyes with her own, lips curving into an anticipatory grin. 

Adrien twitched his mandibles at her, thrumming his desire all the while.  They stood for a few seconds, seemingly sizing each other up before he lunged at her, picking her up by the waist and throwing her over his shoulder.

Viv gasped at the action, the surprise—but a fire ignited in her core that she couldn’t ignore.  She was hungry, for whatever Adrien was supplying.

He dropped her down onto the bed, but instead of her staying on her back, he gripped her at the hips and flipped her over.  Adrien pulled her back so she was on her hands and knees for him, ass in the air.

His hands left her, and she heard him peel off his gloves before resuming his touches.  He traced a talon down the bones of her spine in her lower back, then meandered to the swell of her rear before squeezing tight, talons gripping into the meaty flesh.  Adrien planted a hand on the bed off to the side, supporting himself as his still-clothed body hovered over her.

She felt his talons travel up along her back, and he planted soft kisses in their wake.  He reached her hairline and pushed her tresses aside for unbidden access to her neck.  Adrien licked and nipped along the line of her pulse, mandibles flicking out to brush against her throat. 

Relishing in the position he had her in, she moaned at the feeling of teeth pulling on her skin as he opened his maw and held the side of her neck in his jaw in a show of dominance.  The scraping of his teeth, his rough tongue, the vibrations emanating from his chest—it was too much, and too little all at the same time.

Content that he had her where he wanted her, Adrien growled before releasing her neck from his mouth.  He stood back up and undid the clasps of his tunic, and then his pants; Viv watched him disrobe from over her shoulder, enraptured in his beauty.  His mandibles flared out at her appraisal, audibly clicking back to the sides of his jaw when his expression slid back to that of _need_ , of the necessity that he felt in these moments with her.

As his pants fell down past his hip spurs, his length sprang free from the confines of the garment. 

He’d had all of the coaxing he needed.

When Adrien returned to hover over Viv, she reached one hand up and back behind her so she could feel the pebbled hide of his neck, then back further still to trail up the stacked plates beneath his fringe.  He purred, then pulled Viv to him so that the front of him was flush with her backside. 

His cock slipped between her legs—the skin there already damp, and the smell in the room left nothing to the imagination about the state that they were both in.  The spicy sweet scent of his arousal mingled with the smell of hers, and the olfactory sensation of the combination was heady.

Viv sighed when the tip of his member brushed against her folds as he slid forward with an insistent push of his hips.  Their fluids mixed, signaling their readiness, _willingness_ , to have each other—to give each other everything they possibly could.

Not in the mood for an overabundance of teasing, Adrien slid back after confirming Viv’s readiness for him, and nestled the tip of his member at her slick threshold.  He straightened his posture with a hand at her lower back, and slowly slid home.

Viv couldn’t contain the moan that escaped her throat as he stretched her; involuntarily, she pulsed around him as he hilted himself.  They both breathed deeply, and she still found herself surprised as she did every time, at how _good_ he felt inside her—the upward curve of his cock hitting places that no lover had before

Adrien leaned back over her after giving her pause to adjust, and he started moving by slowly pulling out, and then snapping his hips against her.  The action caused Viv to gasp; her face was contorted into a beautiful, silent scream.

The feeling of teeth at the nape of her neck made heat pool in her core, more intense than the fire that was already there.  She was _burning_ for him, and she never wanted to tamp down the flames.  Her reaction spurred him on, and he started thrusting harder, _deeper_.  She felt every inch, every ridge, pull sensations from her as they pressed against the tight walls of her cunt.

He brought a hand up and underneath her to circle her clit in time with his thrusts, earning him wanton moans as she thrusted her hips back to meet him, taking him as deep as he could possibly go.  The familiar stutter in her gut at her impending climax caused her backward thrusts to grow erratic, timing thrown off by his ministrations to her clit.

Adrien doubled down, pounding into her relentlessly as his own orgasm began to crest.  Feeling him swelling and insistently pressing against her hot, inner walls, he moved his mouth over her shoulder and opened it, taking the thick muscle there between his teeth.

He didn’t bite down, though, and instead said “I want to look at you.”  Adrien pulled out and flipped her over, so she was beneath him and he could look intently into her eyes.

Amber met green, and he slid back inside.  Viv wrapped her arms around him as he moved, and he nudged her head to the side by pushing against it with his own.  He bit down onto the muscle between her neck and shoulder once more.

At that, he made a few more sharp, desperate thrusts, and sank his teeth into her— _deep_ —as the base of his cock started to swell.  The sensations all at once pushed Viv over the edge right along with him, moaning loudly and the combination of sensations, of such intense pleasure and searing, sensual pain.

The taste of iron erupted into his mouth, as his pheromones mingled with hers. 

Viv knew that in these moments, that this was it—he was claiming her, and she had let him.  Cultural nuances aside, she had convinced herself to let go, to freely and fully _give_ herself, to someone else.

The feeling overwhelmed her, as he pulled them both to their sides to lie comfortably as the swell in his knot dissipated.

 _I’m yours_. 

Though she didn’t say it aloud, Adrien knew it too.

 _She’s mine_.  _And I’m hers._

Viv stoked his face while they laid there, tied to one another, bringing that same feeling of security that they’d shared during their stay at the hotel while on leave. 

They belonged to each other, flesh and soul.  Those pieces of each other were tied together, _bound_. 

In that moment, neither had a care in the world.  Not the Reapers, not imminent death.  Just, each other.

And in truth, it was the simplest relationship that Viv ever had.  Cultural differences be damned, this was _pure_.

Nothing in the outside world could take that away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ robinapril


	11. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time jump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Just wanted to thank both @ShudderShock and @SquigglySquid for helping with beta reading the first ten chapters. I made the decision that I feel 'at home' enough writing this, and I've found my footing so well that I'm comfortable with publishing without the beta love. If my mind changes about that, I will absolutely summon them once more. 
> 
> I just have such warm and fuzzy feelings about this fic and it wouldn't be what it is without their help.
> 
> That said, if you see any glaring spelling issues, PLEASE let me know. I proof the hell out of this, but there are always little things that damn spellcheck doesn't catch (and i'll tell you, I've already added so many damn things to my dictionary since I started this endeavor it's not even funny anymore). 
> 
> Ok. That was a lot of words. Enjoy!

And so, together they worked.  Primarch Victus and Commander Shepard fought their way through the galaxy, with the best damn team that anyone could ask for.  All victories were shared, along with the losses that never failed to weigh heavily on them both.  They leaned on each other through those losses, and celebrated whatever little victories they could find.

They fought, and they won.

They fought, and they lost.

They fought, _together_.

And it was pure.

Victus wasn’t always groundside with Viv, but when he was they had a battle chemistry that was matched even better than that of her and Garrus’.  They’d grown accustomed on the occasions that he would battle alongside her to take down teams of four instead of three; his skills complimented that of the rest of her typical ground team _perfectly_.  She’d have Garrus at range, Liara on biotics, and Adrien taking point with all things tech.  Vanguard that she was, this was a _perfect_ arrangement for her fighting style. 

They were a force to be reckoned with, on the battlefield and off.

When Victus _couldn’t_ spend his time groundside with the best of them, he was hard at work rubbing elbows with the rest of the galaxy’s powers.  Some were more difficult than others, but the vast majority of the time, any argument, refusal, or straight up _abysmal_ behavior—Victus would get the best of them. 

While Wrex’s abomination of a brother—Wreav—was killed on Tuchanka, the likes of him still amassed once the news spread of the multi-species effort to cure the genophage.  Some suspected foul play, that the ailment wasn’t actually cured; some suspected the whole thing was just _too_ good to be true, even if the genophage was, in fact, cured.

This was far from the case, but try telling a bullheaded krogan as much.  Groups with thinking similar to Wreav’s amassed, attempting to use the allied turian and krogan forces to sabotage any remaining vestige of goodwill between the species. 

Their efforts floundered. 

The Primarch had friends in high and low places, and Wrex’s followers wouldn’t stand for these networks cropping up, heading acts of brutality and malice.  Cells within the allied fleet attempting to dislodge the alliance between the turians and krogan were decimated, with a single command from a good krogan friend, Urdnot Wrex. 

They started with the leaders, and methodically took them out one by one in opportune moments presented by whatever theater of battle they were engaged in at the time.  ‘I’ve got your back’ became an easy lie told, and the leaders of these cells didn’t have the smarts to smell a setup coming; ironic, since their methods centered on creating trust and exploiting it to their ends. 

They didn’t expect their own methods to be turned on them, and that worked to Wrex’ and Victus’ advantage.  Subsidiaries and other followers who refused to fall in line were next, and foot soldiers were given a second chance.  Most didn’t waste it.

Victus had worked _hard_ to form the alliance, and he was working just as hard at maintaining it. 

Along with keeping the krogan in line, Victus’ suggestions in the approach for taking back Rannoch kept the galaxy from losing another species.  It was he who convinced the quarians that in decimating the geth, there was a very good chance that Rannoch would eventually be lost, too.  The geth were added synthetic firepower against a massive synthetic race, and would provide the war effort with just that much more of an extra edge. 

They needed every edge they could get.

Tali hadn’t met the Primarch until she boarded the Normandy with the Migrant Fleet’s admirals.  She didn’t have a reason to trust him.  Not until she saw him with Shepard—and then to her, not only was he trustworthy and respectable, but he was also _Shepard’s_.

Tali had no cause to doubt him, because she knew what being Shepard’s meant.

It took some extra convincing with the rest of the admirals, but Victus’ silver tongue talked them down before they went planet-side to start settling things—dealing with the Reaper base, and preparing the quarians for a real sense of what having a homeworld meant. 

The admirals had decided to stand down, that it was best to get over the past, and look toward the future instead.

Shepard didn’t have the patience for all the _talking_ that this sort of diplomacy entailed.  Victus was cut out for this, no matter how much it killed him to admit it.  He was more patient than Shepard, and her strengths rested on the battlefield, with her squad, in her element.  Every tough situation they got out of, was because of her and the wherewithal she instilled in those around her.  The crew was solid, charged. 

And it was all because Shepard gave a damn.

They couldn’t save everyone, though.  After the Reaper base on Rannoch was decimated, Shepard had to make a choice.

He gained consciousness, accepted Tali’s friendship, and then Legion was gone.

And they mourned, _together_.

Asari military professionals sought guidance from the Primarch and the Commander as Thessia began to fall. 

When the Normandy arrived on Thessia to retrieve valuable data on the Crucible and lend aid to the asari people, Kai Leng had beaten them there. 

But Shepard had the best damn ground team in the galaxy, the best two pilots—Joker and Cortez were both unmatched—and she had _Adrien_.

He teamed up with Cortez, blanketing the area with missiles, gunfire, and drones with a small team in the shuttle—Vega and Tali helped.  Leng had a gunship, Shepard’s team was _better_.

Kai Leng was no more that day, and the team succeeded in obtaining the data that told them of the secrets the Crucible bore. 

They were going to win this.

But they couldn’t save Thessia.  The asari homeworld fell, and it _hurt_.

The victory of obtaining the data was darkened by the pain in Liara’s eyes.

Despite the pain, despite the loss—they pressed on. 

Traynor was able to track down the Cerberus base from data extracted from Leng’s corpse.  It was imperative they discontinue Cerberus’ interference with their efforts. 

And they went. 

And they _won_.

The Illusive Man hadn’t planned on Kai Leng being defeated that day, so sure of himself—so absolutely _certain_ that he couldn’t lose.  And then he lost, and the Reapers lost a foothold.

The Illusive Man was gone, and his delusions of controlling the Reapers along with him.

Victus had worked closely with Liara in his time on the Normandy.  Her connections, resources, and know-how made his work as fluid and seamless as it likely would have been on the Citadel.  Anyone important who he needed to reach, any subtle message he needed to deliver from one end of the galaxy to the next—she was willing to help with it all. 

They met with turian platoons and troops along the way, boosting morale and strategizing with his fleets across all corners of the Milky Way.  From turian colony planets, to turian outposts on other homeworlds and neighboring planets, their combined forces with the krogan in the DMZ—they made all the stops they could along the way.

The Primarch’s presence around his people was a rallying cry.  The turians, overall, were _thrilled_ to have a leader well-versed in the state of things.  Victus was not far removed from being a general himself—and a great one at that—so he knew the stakes, and he knew how to be realistic.  Fedorian was a good Primarch, but Victus was still one of _them_.  Because of this fact, the turians along the way placed great weight on his words, his advisement. 

Victus was the people’s Primarch. 

And the people, more so than expected, accepted his relationship with Commander Shepard.  They weren’t private about it, not anymore.  When timing aligned and Victus was meeting with the turian forces, Shepard was right along with them.  Since the turians were helping the humans in this war, it only made sense to show people that getting along was both possible, and preferable.

Victus and Shepard talked about the triumphs and losses they’d had, but they talked about the successes achieved from working together the most.  Defeat was inevitable—not every battle could be won.  But, those victories were more often and better won together.

Shepard and Victus became a beacon for this sort of cooperation.  Around turians, they knew instantly that she and he were bonded.  They made no efforts to disguise the fact.  The worst that happened was awkward interrogation by confused humans and turians in their path—they forwarded Mordin’s pamphlets to anyone who asked.

The salarian’s legacy lived on.

Better still, having intercepted Kai Leng on Thessia before he was able to make off with the Prothean data that could help better understand the Crucible’s functions, they were able to dedicate resources that would aid in doing everything in their power to figure out what it was the Crucible actually _did_. 

Had Victus not been there in aiding Cortez and the rest of the team, there was every chance that Leng could have escaped their grasp with the data in tow.  As it happened, however, this was just another ‘what if’ that never came to fruition.

Shepard and her team had the upper hand, and it wouldn’t have been possible if Victus hadn’t been there.

The team discovered that the Crucible had the ability to emit massive amounts of energy through the galaxy using the mass relay system.  They learned that said energy could be manipulated in three primary ways.  The data they uncovered made it seem as though they were limited to three options, and three options only—but that wasn’t good enough.

Not for Shepard, not for Victus, and not for the countless lives that had been uselessly lost in the throes of this war. 

Controlling the Reapers was out of the question.  While Shepard could be trusted with such power, it was a power that both she and Victus believed that no one person should wield.  This was the Illusive Man’s downfall, and it sure as hell wasn’t about to be theirs.

They could destroy the Reapers, but the beams the Crucible would emit didn’t discriminate.  After having unshackled EDI, and allowing the geth to reach a consensus that was heavily influenced by Legion—nobody on their team had the heart to so quickly tear all of that away.  Synthetics were beings, with thoughts and feelings and goals. 

The Reapers needed to go down, but the guilt from making such a decision without exploring other options would weigh on Shepard and the team forever.  It was a pain she simply couldn’t live with, and would avoid in any way she could.

Synthesis, they figured, would be the safest way to go.  Even still, that was one hell of a decision that Shepard just simply didn’t feel _right_ about making for the entire galaxy.  It would bring to light a fundamental understanding of the differences between organics and synthetics.  It would end the long standing conflict that the Reapers were convinced would never end.  But something about making such a call just didn’t give Shepard warm and fuzzy feelings. 

Synthesizing the entire galaxy without consent just didn’t seem right. 

Knowing their options, though, gave them time to consider potential outcomes.  It also gave them room to figure out if there was any way to bypass the unintended consequences, to figure out a way to manipulate the energy emissions to a new purpose altogether.

Fortunately, though Mordin was gone, his research lived on.

When they’d collected the groundside data from Tuchanka before using the Shroud to disperse the genophage cure, Mordin hadn’t stopped at simply figuring out a way to distribute the cure.  No—he went deeper than that.

Contrary to popular belief and understanding about the Reapers, they were not entirely synthetic.  They harvested organic beings to prolong their own race, and thus, certain aspects of the Reapers’ physiology functioned similarly to organic biological responses.

The toxin that was being pumped into the air via the Shroud, as it turned out, was an organic compound.  Studying the compound at length revealed certain vulnerabilities in their design, weaknesses that would not have come to light otherwise.

This was advantageous to their cause.

Garrus had done a hell of a job working with the turian engineers, builders, and scientists in constructing the Crucible.  Once the Normandy team discovered the potential to exploit the newly discovered faults of the Reapers, Garrus rallied the salarian, turian, and human teams they had been in contact with to try to implement any alteration to the Crucible that might give them an advantage.

They found that with careful genetic manipulation, and careful design and programming of cybernetics, they could program and develop a virus that was both organic and synthetic in origin.  The functionality of the Crucible that would allow for synthesis of organics and synthetics was repurposed to meet a more desirable end.

They could distribute this virus using the beams that the Crucible would emit—and they found this could be done without harming the geth, without harming unshackled AIs like EDI, and they could do it without harming organics, as the virus was designed with Reaper weaknesses in mind entirely.

The one catch, however, was delivering the virus—it was still up to Shepard to be there, in the flesh, to make sure that their plan worked.

As always, it fell on her shoulders.  It was a burden she wouldn’t have to bear for much longer, though.

Once they had figured out how to exploit the Reapers’ weaknesses with the help from the teams that Garrus was directing, the STG scientists that slipped past the wrath of the Dalatrass to help, and the multitude of people all over the galaxy that wanted to help the cause—it was time to make one final move on Cerberus, and take back Earth.

After extinguishing the Illusive Man, Cerberus efforts seemed to slowly fall apart.  They had bases near Sol, and the Normandy team was successful in decimating every last one of them they could find.  Without any kind of coordinated effort from the deceased power that was the Illusive Man, any efforts to further halt Shepard and her team were met with more decimation—Cerberus had been weakened to the best extent that their time and resources allowed, and then it was time.

But of course, it was never that easy.

When they were making plans for the fleets to guide the completed Crucible to the Citadel, the space station in its entirety was moved to Sol space—directly over Earth, over London.  The hub of galactic government, leadership, and culture now hovered over the human homeworld. 

They had to adapt, and fast.

Fortunately, Admiral Hackett had ground teams and forces stationed at various metropolises across Earth to combat the ongoing Reaper invasion and harvest.  Many of their efforts were futile at best—they would bring down the ground troop numbers, but as the harvest continued, the Reapers were able to replenish and expand those forces almost immediately.

While combat and warfare weren’t having the desired impact, having forces stationed in London did allow for information gathering as to the purpose of relocating the Citadel.

The implications were grim.

One platoon reported in, that a beam was placed over London.  It ran from the surface of the planet up to the Citadel, for one purpose and one purpose only.

It transported humans—dead and alive—up to the Citadel for processing.  The Reapers had converted parts of the station to manufacture not only more of their forces to aid in their purposes, but also to harvest genetic material to continue bolstering their own numbers, leading into the next cycle of destruction.

They had to put a stop to it, and they had to do it _now_.

\---

The Normandy was to rendezvous with the turian and krogan fleets leading the charge against the Reapers on Earth; the Fifth Fleet was already there, having escorted the Crucible to the Citadel.

Javik, the Prothean ‘artifact’ that they retrieved from Eden Prime, had memory shards that linked to other shards Cerberus had collected, and retrieved by the Normandy and her team during their assault on the base.  The information had warned them that once the Reapers caught wind of the resistance had full knowledge of the Crucible’s function, it needed to be guarded at all costs.

So, in addition to the Citadel being relocated for greater ease of harvesting the human population, it was also moved to its new location for protection in Reaper-controlled space.  Now that Shepard and her team had uncovered the purpose and functionality of the Crucible, the Reapers were doing everything in their power to keep them from using it.

The dash to the end grew dire as the hours passed.

They were as prepared as they were ever going to be.  Shepard chose her ground team, and Victus conferred with his men. Imparting vigor, resolve, determination, and _hope_ with their words was their charge.

The Primarch wanted nothing more than to be alongside those leading the final push against the Reapers.  He told them, “This war will be won or lost today, on Earth, not on Palaven. History will record that the turian hierarchy stood among the brave.  The only hope for Palaven lies here, on Earth, fighting side by side with human, krogan, salarian, asari, and anyone willing to take up arms against the greatest threat this galaxy—our history—has ever seen.  May the spirits guide us in these dark hours.”

Shepard watched him as he delivered his speech to his men; her heart raced.  They’d done it, they were here—this was the end of the line, for better or for worse.  Defeat today meant no tomorrow for anyone.  The concept of ‘tomorrow’ to Shepard in these final moments was abstract, intangible. 

Her heart, however, was standing right in front of her—tangible, real.

After raucous cheering and rallying cries, Victus waived off his men to take formation, walking over to Shepard for what may be the last words they would ever speak, share.

Blasts and gunfire sounded all around them, a backdrop to their goodbyes.

“So,” Viv started.  “Here we are.”

Adrien morosely laughed as he inched closer to her, reaching for her hands.  Viv gave them to him, unable to feel the heat of the touch over the layers of gloves and armor, but the gesture still stirred a familiar warmth in her chest.

“Indeed we are,” Adrien stated, a despondent purr lining his words.  The confidence and boldness from his speech to his men gone; sadness lived there now instead.

“Whatever happens up there,” Viv quietly spoke. “Whatever happens, I’m glad that _we_ happened.  I don’t think we could have done this without you.”

“Oh I’m certain you could have,” Adrien answered. “But having me around seemed to ease your tension a bit, wouldn’t you say?”

Viv chuckled and removed one of her hands from his, reaching up to caress his right mandible reassuringly.  “Something like that,” she said through her slight, sad smile.  “I just want you to know that what I felt— _feel_ —for you, I…never expected it to happen for me.  You’ve changed me, for the better.  Just…if I don’t come back, I want you to know that.  I love you, Adrien.  Don’t forget about me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Viv.”  His eyes bore into hers, and she stepped on her tip toes to pull him into a human kiss.  He reciprocated, and leaned his brow against hers.

“I love you, too.” Adrien’s voice was convicted, his words trying to say what his subvocals were, but falling ever short.

Viv backed up, trailing her hand down his arm as she walked away.  She backed up a few paces at the loss of contact, still facing him with determination in her eyes. 

And then she turned around, and she was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ robinapril


	12. Wreckage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crucible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about a bonus chapter this week? I had this mostly written with Wednesday's update, and felt like being generous :)
> 
> Characters owned by BioWare.

Shepard turned away from Victus and walked toward the ground team’s rendezvous point as her heart clenched in her chest.  She allowed herself a deep inhale, an exhale—a single tear fell from her eye, trailing down to her chin and then to the collar of her hard suit.  The resulting moisture fogged up her visor ever so slightly, but she blinked it away and stepped forward.

 _Always forward_.

She convened with Garrus and Liara, and they started working through wave after wave of Reaper forces pouring into the area.  A destroyer was stationed directly behind the beam that they needed to use to get up to the Citadel and open the arms to dock the Crucible, and before they so much as thought about moving toward it, they needed to use their air forces and ground teams as effectively as possible to take that monstrosity down.

Shepard, Garrus, and Liara went to work in clearing brutes, banshees, and every other abomination that the Reapers so kindly graced with their presence.  A few unspent missile trucks were stationed nearby, and EDI adapted the targeting systems after hacking through the firing mechanism, hoping to better hone in on the Reaper’s eye—it was one vulnerability they could exploit. 

They had but few chances, and to waste them would spell disaster.

Once the team had the breadth to take a shot, EDI launched the missile as the Reaper opened up to fire on them some more.

The team missed. Shepard’s heart sank, and Garrus’ mandibles twitched in irritation.  Liara hid behind rubble as she prepared for the coming onslaught.

And more Reaper forces were inbound, imminent.

Three brutes emerged from a nearby building, spotting them and charging immediately.  Just as the team opened fire on the brutes, the telltale scream of a banshee sounded from several directions, cutting through the cacophony of gunfire.

And from each corner of the immediate vicinity, four banshees floated into view. 

They screamed once more, the noise like daggers to their eardrums.

Shepard took point in a central location, behind a massive pile of rubble.  She could maneuver to the left or right with substantial cover, depending on what kind of support Garrus and Liara needed.  Garrus kept his distance, crouched in the back left to pinpoint two of the banshees pouring through—purple-black blood spraying from their wounds as he repeatedly hit his marks—as Shepard finished off the already near-dead brutes.

Liara was to the back right, alternating between shooting and warping the banshees in hopes of maintaining their distance.  Methodically, they obliterated them using this pattern.  But it took time, which was something they didn’t have much of.

The last banshee screamed as Shepard unloaded round after round into its skull.  There were no more brutes in sight, so it was the best possible opportunity to try a missile truck once more. It was in bad shape though—operational, but barely—so Shepard hoped for luck to be on their side. For extra support, they notified the turians that they would need as much air support as they could get.  Krogan and asari helped with supporting the ground teams.

The squad moved to the next truck, giving EDI the go-ahead to target.  The Reaper’s eye opened, and the missile fired as the fleets bombarded the destroyer.  It went down, and the approach to the beam was as clear as it was going to get.

It was time to make their approach, and they had to move fast.

Just as the destroyer fell, at least twenty more Reaper ships of various classes descended upon the city.  The move to the beam turned into a feverish dash—even if it wasn’t Shepard, someone _had_ to get to that beam.  Every team in sight had soldiers sprinting toward it, the last tendrils of hope the people had dwindled as soldiers fell.

By the time Shepard, Garrus, and Liara were in vicinity of the beam, there were only ten left.  Turian, asari, krogan, salarian, _everyone_ —their sacrifices at the end of the line were made in determination, and not one of the bodies that littered the battlefield lied there in vain. 

They understood the price that this moment cost.  Everyone lying there, and still standing, had paid dearly for this moment.  And if this moment was lost, everything else would be too.

Shepard’s team had little additional distance to cover, two hundred yards at most.  Garrus and Liara led a small group to cover, and as their feet moved, so did several large ground vehicles through the air from the Reaper blasts that wouldn’t stop.

_They never stopped._

Before they could take cover, a Mako flew at them, exploding into flames as it hit the ground beside them.  While the Mako itself didn’t land _on_ them, the resulting blast burned through Garrus’ armor, and Liara took a hit to the head from flying rubble.  This left them both incapacitated, and it became clear to Shepard that she needed to get them to the Normandy because the newly acquired injuries and lack of medigel meant that she was not confident in their odds of survival.

This was the one thing that wasn’t worth the risk.  Shepard would go it alone, and get the ones she loved to safety.

“Normandy, come in!” Shepard called for Joker over the comm and was met with static.

“Joker! Do you read me?”  Her voice was growing more ragged, desperate.

_White noise._

Liara’s head lolled to the side, and Garrus was rapidly losing blood. 

“Joker!  Normandy, please!” She begged, “We need an evac, now!”

Finally, the static broke.  “Shepard!” Joker sounded panicked.  “We’re taking heavy fire.  They shot down Cortez’ shuttle and we just pulled an evac for him.  En route to your coordinates now, Commander, but we’re gonna have to be quick.”

“Copy,” she cried as she helped Garrus stand up, positioning his arm over her shoulders so she could support him with what strength she had.  It was wearing thin, and this was added weight to her shoulders.

_I just have to get them to the Normandy, they have to survive this._

The thought renewed her strength, and she supported Garrus’ bulk using her shoulders and tiny frame.  Liara put one foot in front of the other, but it was an obvious struggle for her—she seemed dizzy, incoherent.  And sorry. 

Liara’s voice was a quiet rasp as she spoke.  “I….I’m…sorry, Shepard.  I’m supposed to be up there with you when we finish this.”

Shepard reached out her free hand to grasp Liara’s, hoping to be some kind of anchor, anything tangible that Liara could hold onto in this final push to safety.  It wasn’t the time for regret, and Shepard wanted nothing more than to show Liara that didn’t have anything _to_ regret. 

They were in this together, and even if Liara or Garrus couldn’t be by her side on the Citadel in these final moments, they and their whole team were the reason that Shepard had the chance to stand here today.

 _And Adrien_. 

The thought mournfully crossed Shepard’s mind, briefly drifting to him; she hoped he was okay.

As Shepard began to worry that she wouldn’t be able to get Liara and Garrus to safety on time, the Normandy flew into view and the hatch opened up to release the bridge that would be their savior.

James ran down to Liara, bringing an arm around her waist as one of hers found his shoulders.  Shepard still had Garrus propped up on her, and she stumbled into the Normandy toward some nearby crates, helping him sit down.  Tali ran up and gripped Shepard by the shoulder, and said “We’ve all made it, let’s get out of here.”

“You guys go.” Shepard’s words were a command.  “Get out of here,” she said.

“Shepard, no…” Garrus interjected, weakly.

“Don’t argue, Garrus.” It was an order, one that Shepard wouldn’t accept refusal or second guesses on. 

They all looked at her, knowingly.

She turned, and left the Normandy.  Looking over her shoulder, she watched briefly as the hatch closed and the ship was airborne once more.  She nodded to herself, some notion of relief that they were out of the fire.  They had some hope of surviving this, and it was the best she could do at the time.

As the Normandy disappeared from view, she started her move toward the beam.  Her pace was slow, though, and as Shepard mustered the strength to keep her legs moving, she reached her hand up to touch over her armor, over the place that Adrien had left—and often reopened—his mark.

Her eyes threatened tears once more.  She gripped the spot tightly, the pressure allowing her to ever so slightly feel the sting.  At that she moved faster, determined.

That reminder charged her, and she put one foot in front of the other as bombs exploded around her, as allied ships fell from the sky, as more and more Reapers descended over London.

She ran, as fast as she could. Explosions threw her off track, jostling her body and threatening to break her.

She could not be broken— _wouldn’t_ be broken.

Shepard ran faster still, and a pipe from the underbelly of a felled Mako hit her on the backs of her knees.

The impact threw her gun from her hand as her body lurched downward, but she rolled over and pushed herself off the ground; every limb screamed as she moved but her cybernetics were working quickly to alleviate some of the struggle.

She sent a silent ‘thanks’ to Cerberus, because without their intervention in bringing her back, this war would have been lost a long time ago.

 _At least they were good for something_.

Her body limped as she again put one foot in front of the other in a slow, crawling pace toward the beam.

Her hand shook as she raised her pistol, aiming—but barely—at the husks running toward her.  Shepard managed to take them down, but it slowed her pace even more.  A marauder emerged from cover, peppering her charred armor with further impact.  She was weakened, vulnerable.

 _But not defeated_. 

 _Not yet_.

Shepard clumsily popped the heat sink, replacing it as quickly as she could.  Every other shot missed, but eventually the marauder fell and no longer stood in her way.  She stumbled to the ground, crawling the remaining few feet to the beam.

And then everything went dark.

 

\---

 

Her eyes blinked open, faint emergency lighting the only illumination.  The only colors she could see were those of death, death of her own kind—human remains littered the area.  Body parts, pools of blood and gore, organs torn from bodies and thrown away like trash.

This was a nightmare, and she didn’t have the luxury of waking up from this one.  She didn’t have Adrien by her side to nudge her shoulder until she came back to wakefulness.  Shepard was alone, wading through desolation.

And then a voice came over her comm.

“Shepard, is that you?”  It was Anderson; he must have made it up, too.

“Anderson?”  Shepard’s reply was an exasperated huff that took far too much effort.

“It’s me, Shepard,” he answered.  “I got movement on my omni-tool, I knew it would be you.”

“At least one of us had that confidence,” she joked, strained, as she clutched her side and winced.  “Where are you?  What do you see?  I’ve never seen this part of the Citadel.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Anderson said.  “I’m seeing dead, lots of ‘em.  Just came through a tunnel.  Better on this end of it than it was there on the other side, but it’s still bad.”

“I don’t think I’m far behind you.”  Knowing that Anderson was there gave her more resolve, more charge to finish this.

The tunnel to which she hoped he was referring lied ahead; she had to crawl over a small mountain of bloodied corpses to get there, but she managed.  Shepard would remember this smell for the rest of her days, if she had any after this. 

She trudged through the tunnel, and the other side was brighter and littered with less death than the area she emerged from, but that wasn’t saying much.  Up ahead, she could faintly make out Anderson’s figure.  He weakly waved her forward, beckoning her to his side.

Limping toward him, she squeezed her eyes shut as the pain threatened to topple her.

 _No_.

Anderson’s movements were stiff, pained as well.  He had been through a different sort of hell than she had, but it was a hell no less.  A hell that they were ready to end.

The two limped on, both silently appraising the other.  Gratitude overwhelmed them, just happy to see a friendly face, even if that face was bloodied, beaten, and damn near defeated.  It was _friendly_ , and gave them both the push they needed to keep moving, to _win_.

And so the two hobbled onward, moving toward the direction where the lights grew brighter.  They walked up a ramp that led into an orange-hued room with a console stationed in the center.  Anderson collapsed by her feet, breathing labored.

He didn’t have long.  She was out of medigel, and found he had one packet remaining.  She hastily smeared it over the worst of his wounds on his torso, fighting to hold herself up with one arm while she leaned over and tried to tend to him.

Shepard’s efforts were futile, though.  Anderson’s breaths were pained, and he shook his head from side to side and weakly grasped her wrist.

“Stop,” he choked out.  “This is the end of the line for me.”

“No!”  Shepard wouldn’t accept that, no.  Not here, not after having come so far.

Anderson’s eyes drifted closed, and he slowly opened them back up to meet Shepard’s sad, green ones.

“You did good, child.” 

She shook her head from side to side, tears reappearing and fogging up what was left of the broken glass on her visor.  She tore it from her face, weakly flinging it a few feet across the room.

Anderson’s eyes closed once more, and his breathing stopped.  Shepard felt for a pulse that wasn’t there.

“Fuck.” She said the word through a breath. 

She was tired, so tired.

Biting back the tears, she hoisted herself up to the console with all of the strength that she could muster. 

_I’ve got this.  We went over this.  This is it._

Her omni-tool still intact, Shepard lifted her arm and hovered it over the waiting interface.

 _Disable_.

The Catalyst wouldn’t get a chance at its lies.

_Link._

Her omni-tool now had remote access once in the vicinity of the beam.

 _Open_.

The Citadel arms moved, the Crucible guided in while fleets tried to keep the Reapers from the surrounding space with all their might.

 _Disperse_.

The Crucible docked to the Citadel, and the Reaper virus was prepped.

 _Lift_.

The platform on which she and the console stood lifted.  Shepard held her weight on the console as they moved.

 _Dock_.

The platform locked into place, and Shepard stepped forward, punching in the next command once they were in vicinity.

 _Unlock_.

The synthesis beam came to life, and she approached the next console.

_Standby._

Limping forward, Shepard notified the fleets that the Crucible was armed, and ready.

 _Fire_.

The floor beneath her shook, she tumbled down at the quakes.  Her muscles refused to hold her still, and the grip she had on the console lessened by the second.  Shepard felt helpless in that moment, but even though she knew she would die here—even though she was about to lose everything she’d ever had, everyone she ever loved, few of those people there may be—the triumph outweighed that helplessness.

Shepard closed her eyes as the quaking continued, bits and pieces of her life drifting by as black peeled in around the edges of her vision.

She saw Mindoir, as a child, sitting outside of their family’s fab unit watching thunderstorms roll in.  She had a pad of paper and charcoals, and drew as the smell of rain and lavender flitted through her nose.  Her mom always kept some planted nearby.

She saw the Normandy, stepping aboard for the first time as an executive officer, and then as a commander.

She saw the excitement in Garrus’ eyes as she was inducted as a Spectre.

She saw the stale white light of the Cerberus base as Miranda barked commands at her, drawing her two-year death to a close.

And she saw the look in Adrien’s eyes when they’d told him he’d be the Primarch of Palaven.  She saw the hopeful glances he threw her way during his first days on the Normandy.  She saw the love in his eyes when he marked her for the first time.

And then, she saw nothing.

 

\---

 

Blasts ripped through the air as the turian troupes held the line.  Victus’ men followed his orders like gospel—the General would always be there to some extent. In these tense moments of life and death, it was a gospel that many took to their graves.

And then, blinding green light ripped through the sky as the ground shook.  In seconds, their world was enveloped by green and it started to rain.

Metallic screeches sounded, and then ceased as one by one, Reapers started crashing to the ground.  Husks, marauders, cannibals, and the rest of their hordes collapsed.  It looked like the fight was literally drained out of them.

The blasts stopped, and the only sounds were the pained screams of still living casualties.

Victus paused and looked over at his men, still keeping his weapon at the ready should anything go awry.

 _She did it_.

His chest swelled with pride, and if turians could cry from joy, he would have in that moment.

Instead, his subharmonics rumbled with pride, love, hope—and _everything_ he felt for that woman.

And then a quiet keen came through, remembering the chance there was that he might never see her again.

 _No_.

They’d find her, and he would tear the Citadel apart limb from limb if that’s what it took.

Alive or dead, Commander—Viv—Shepard would be found, and either be laid to rest like she deserved, or placed in his care so he could give her every damn thing she needed.

His keen subsided, and the proud rumble returned unbidden.

Victus thoughts came back to his immediate surroundings, drawn from them by the triumphant cheers of the troupe’s remaining men.  They raised their guns in the air, a gesture of victory as their rumbling yells sounded through the area.

_We won._

War was Adrien’s resume, and for the first time since this all began, he had no idea where to start.  So he stood tall, walked over to a place quiet enough for him to hear his comms over the raucous celebration of his men.

“Normandy, come in,” he said.

And then he waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ robinapril


	13. Two Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks since the Crucible fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters owned by BioWare.

No species was spared from the brutality that the Reapers had unleashed on the galaxy.  Nearly two weeks had passed since the Crucible fired, and death tolls were pouring in from whatever corner of the galaxy communication networks opened back up to.  That had been a trying process in and of itself.

Some races had it worse than others.  Humans, turians, asari, and batarians saw casualties in the billions, while others saw those numbers, thankfully, stay in the millions.  It was a morbid thing to shed gratitude on, really. 

The beginning steps of picking up the pieces were underway.  Due to the decision to house the Council aboard the Destiny Ascension, the two remaining councilors were alive and had confirmed replacements for their human and salarian counterparts.  Dalatrass Linron of Sur’Kesh would step in as the new salarian councilor, while Gianna Parasini of Noveria would take up the role of the new human councilor.

Adrien wasn’t at all thrilled about Linron being selected as the salarian councilor, due to the difficulties he faced in negotiating with her during the summit aboard the Normandy, and in the weeks that followed.  She had been a talon in his side since the beginning, and he was certainly not looking forward to attending to diplomatic engagements with the Council if his previous interactions were any indication of what the future held.

Linron was _not_ excited about the genophage cure, and Adrien was certain that the Dalatrass turned Councilor would remind him of that fact at every possible opportunity.

Parasini, while Adrien didn’t know much about her, seemed like a good fit.  Her experience working with various corporations’ questionable legal goings-on had prepared her well for diplomacy on a galactic scale, and he looked forward to seeing what she could do both within this period of aftermath, and beyond.

Adrien tried not to concern himself much with such things, though.  Maintaining a base knowledge of galactic politics was now part of his duty, and for the first time in his life, he was fine with applying the bare minimum of effort to these tasks.  He was a Primarch and he had an obligation to politics, but there were other pressing things to attend to.

Political matters could wait.

Military resources in and around the Sol system were horrendously depleted, but they made the most of what they had.  Asari commandos took up arms to help control the looting problem that sprang up in cities across the planet. 

Adrien shouldn’t have been surprised—turian honor be damned, he’d seen his own people do the same thing.  Having spearheaded the efforts to take back Earth and navigate the Crucible to the Citadel, the human Alliance was too worn down to spread themselves thin in keeping the looters at bay, and in this task, the asari commando units were the best fit.

Turian units maintained their positions in the heart of London, beginning repairs in the immediate vicinity while aiding in medical triage in the cities where the casualties were denser.  They were organized, methodic.  They approached caring for the sick in much the same way they approached reconstruction—start with the worst of it, and work their way out.  The people who needed care the most got it first, and if not left crippled or disabled once treated, surviving casualties were eager to assist in whatever ways they could.

The Reaper corpses were being systematically removed by salarian teams, some STG some not.  Their units scanned the corpses and remaining signatures for as much data as they could, trying to garner any knowledge possible about how to better prepare the galaxy against a foe like this, should any spring up in the future. It was valuable, but Adrien had a hard time thinking of _any_ enemy that could appear and be worse than this. 

He sent a silent prayer to the spirits, asking that he wouldn’t see it in his lifetime.

The recovery efforts, in truth, were a sight to behold. Since everyone there for the final push was essentially stranded, they made the most of their time away from their planets of origin and helped people on Earth and in Sol as much as they could.

Adrien considered, momentarily, that he played a small role in this cooperation.  With Viv Shepard, he united a galaxy.

And she was still nowhere to be found.

Slowly, comm networks were gradually resurrected, and after five initial days of scanning every network they could find and tap into they finally got in touch with the Normandy.  Five days, he hadn’t heard from his Adviser, his friend, his brother.  The rest of the Normandy crew had become important to him too, and not only to him.

These people were important to the entire damn galaxy, and he needed them by his side.  But they were marooned on Virmire, and repairs on the Normandy would take another several days.  Further still, the mass relay networks were shot and Sol’s hadn’t even been repaired yet.

It was hard to say when the rest of the relays in the galaxy would be usable again, and if the Normandy came back to Sol using standard FTL, it would be weeks before they could make it back to the system.

He needed them here, and Viv did too.

 _Wherever she was_.

Adrien’s heart ached every time he said her name in his head.  Every time her face danced across his vision behind closed eyes.  Every time he caught her scent on his things, on _him_.  Even though she wasn’t here, with him—she bombarded every one of his senses, and he couldn’t make it stop.

He wasn’t sure that he wanted it to.

Moving ahead was the only option, though, and dealing with the pain of not knowing whether his mate lie dead or alive in some dork corner of the Citadel was eating him as he worked.  It became an overwhelming, all-devouring shroud that always hovered over him.  Putting one foot in front of the other felt like nothing more than going through the motions without her.

But all the while, he assisted with whatever efforts he could to occupy his thoughts if only for short moments. Viv still consumed him, always, but keeping busy left more parts of him whole than being alone with his thoughts did.

He took what he could get.

After the final push, Shepard made it to the beam and successfully deployed the virus; that much was obvious.  What wasn’t obvious, however, was where she had ended up.  Many survivors on the Citadel had already been found, but given the utter destruction and lack of proper tracking and record keeping, it was almost impossible to identify most of them.  This was particularly difficult with Alliance personnel.

Every day, Adrien would go and scour the next hospital, the next room, the next medical center in every last ward, trying to find her.  He understood the grim implications of her being unable to identify herself; she could be alive, but must be in a sorry state.

But he’d find her, living or deceased, and with every fiber of his being.  He would find her.

Adrien couldn’t live with himself if he failed in this.

So he wouldn’t.

At the end of every shift, every planetside duty, he would take a shuttle up to the Citadel to continue his search.  Because the record keeping systems were in disrepair, identifying the sick and wounded was an arduous, daunting task.  So, he’d decided, that it was best if he just identified her himself. 

So he worked his way through, night after night.

Cleanup efforts were moving swiftly on the Citadel, mostly.  They had resources that were unavailable planetside, some were key in their speedy recovery efforts.  The Keepers had been integral.  With the Reapers now gone, the sole function of the Keepers was preparing the damage left behind.  An unfortunate fact about dealing with the Keepers, though, was that they had a tendency to move things around without notice.

On the third night, this had proven to be a terrible inconvenience. Efforts in certain parts of the Citadel had come to a standstill. Several wings and corridors had been blocked off without notice, despite having been in heavy use.

One such corridor lead to an out-of-the-way medical center, one that Adrien hadn’t searched yet and one that needed supplies.  Through some careful placement and cajoling of the Keepers, they were able to get the wings opened back up and access the triage center, but it had taken up time that was better spent searching for _her_.

Clearing out and sanitizing the Reapers’ processing centers was a gruesome, gory task.  One that was made all the more difficult by the Keepers blocking off a particularly pungent center close to the Citadel’s ventilation systems. 

It was the worst thing that Adrien had ever smelled.  Death clung to his nostrils that day, and it made his plates itch.

These mishaps had pushed the Council in the direction of abandoning their prior views about not interfering with the Keepers.  They needed to be interfered with, and interfered with often.

Sparatus tasked Adrien with coordinating Keeper organization efforts, so the two worked together in crafting the logistics of how the Keepers could be best used in reconstruction.  Once they were being monitored and coaxed, rebuilding the Citadel became a smooth, efficient endeavor.

For two weeks, things went on like this.  The Council always presented a new problem for him to solve.  Some truly required his expertise, and some tasks, it seemed, the Council just didn’t seem quite sure of who to ask for help.

When he was groundside, he lead and assisted in the turian rebuilding and medical efforts and they were making good progress.  But, Adrien knew that they could always do better.  So he did all he could, and then tried for more.

But it felt so empty without her.

He’d sit alone in his barracks after returning from the Citadel each night.  He considered staying up there, but he knew that his brothers and sisters in arms needed him down on the ground in the trenches with them. 

It’s what Adrien preferred, too.

But in those moments of quiet, he would think of her. 

He would think of how her hair smelled when she buried her face in his neck, the tender kisses she’d trail down his lengthy mandibles.  He would think of her laugh, of the way she smiled and shrugged off moments of interspecies awkwardness between them.

He’d think about the taste of her blood that lingered in his mouth after every time he reopened her bond mark.  He’d feel his heart pounding in his chest, a rhythm that was only brought on by thoughts of her.

If they never found her, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go on.  Adrien had already lost one bondmate, and turians mated for life.  Losing two in one lifetime was a crushing blow to a member of his species, and one that he wasn’t sure he could withstand. 

He had to find her.

Adrien fell asleep that night, feeling more determined than he had the day before, and the day before that.  As each day passed and the hours grew, so did his will to find the other half of himself.

Viv was up there, somewhere.  And she would either wind up back in his arms, where she belonged, or get the proper burial that she deserved.

Adrien would settle for nothing less.

 

\---

 

On the fourteenth day, Adrien woke up with the familiar ache of loss radiating from behind his keel, to his gut, to his legs that he had to will to move him to his next task.  He dreamt of her, often, and his comrades in arms had expressed their concern at the low keen that seemed to stem from a bottomless well within his being each morning, in his first moments of wakefulness every single day.

“You can’t go on like this,” they’d say.

He’d acknowledge their concerns, and reply with a simple “I don’t have a choice.”

On that morning on that fourteenth day, he stepped away from his cot and gathered his toiletries and brushes, making for the showers.  The task of polishing his plates was one he no longer relished in, without Viv’s hands around his brushes and lovingly tending to him in the way that only she could.

It felt meaningless, like another fleeting action to pull him through the day.  He knew it was worthwhile to tend to himself, but he had a really hard time in seeing the point of it all.  Adrien supposed it was just another line in the job description, to maintain the image of success that might inspire hope in a people.

The only thing that inspired Adrien’s hope was somewhere on the Citadel, without him tending to her.

Serving and helping others only reminded him that he couldn’t help those that he’d lost; Trysia, Tarquin—gone, out of his reach.  Viv, well, she was gone too.  But she didn’t feel _lost_ , not yet. 

His desperation was reaching its limits, though.

Adrien walked over, a steady mist falling onto his plates and cascading his senses in an envelope of cold, damp, and soot.  The dust was still settling, and would be for a while.  Most places still had ruins burning, ashes still falling.

It permeated _everything_ , and Adrien could never quite feel clean.  He still tried though, futile task that it was.

He changed out of the light armor that he slept in, sitting it outside of the curtain as he stepped into the mobile shower and pulled it shut behind him.  Turning the water on, he gripped the makeshift railing and closed his eyes and leaned forward as the cool water fell over his fringe. 

Something as simple as the luxury of hot water was lost on him.  The only luxury—no, _necessity_ —he cared about, he couldn’t have.  The rest just fell away.  He didn’t care that the water was cold, that his bed left his back aching and movements stiff.  He didn’t care about his old life, or any of that.  The one thing that mattered most to him, he couldn’t have.

His mandibles went slack and he shook it off as he growled at himself in reprimand for his apathy, making quick work of scrubbing away the remnants of his neglect.  Adrien would appear to be the model turian—a Primarch had to—but inside he was everything but.

And so he dragged himself through the task and shook the water off of himself, paying no mind to modesty as he walked stark naked back to the barracks with his light armor in hand. 

He felt dirty the moment he stepped back into the rain.

But he got back to the barracks, dried off yet again, and donned his undersuit and heavy armor; he was as ready as he was ever going to be to take on just one more day.  If he thought of living as just ‘one more day,’ it became more bearable than thinking in terms of years, of decades, without Viv by his side. 

 _One day at a time_ , he considered.  He could do this.  He had to.

 _The needs of the many_.

Adrien stepped out and hailed his team, passing out orders to go to this area of the city or that.  He put his second-in-command—Rozzus—in charge of the planetside efforts, as something compelled Adrien to center his efforts on the Citadel that day. 

Triage on the surface was under control, and reconstruction plans for the day were simple to carry out.  He wasn’t needed here, and trusted Rozzus to get the job done, even having only worked with him since the third day after the Reapers fell.

It was Sparatus’ suggestion, and the turian councilor wasn’t stupid. 

After laying out their plans, Adrien hailed his shuttle to the Citadel. 

 

\---

 

Adrien arrived and stopped at the refugee camps in the docks to shore up goodwill.  Garrus had done fine work here, and his efforts were still paying off.  He nodded to himself in approval, and maybe a little bit of pride.

He went to check in with the Council, disappointed to find Councilor Linron’s holographic form deep in conversation with Sparatus and Tevos. Adrien patiently waited, stepping out of view in hopes of shielding himself from the requirement of tolerating Linron’s snide remarks.

He simply wasn’t in the mood, and didn’t have the patience.  Not today.

The hospitals in the area were beginning to have space opening up for those in the triage centers.  Having healed many of the sick and injured, medical centers on the Citadel were sending patients to Huerta, and the other wards’ various hospitals.  While the medical triage network that Adrien had helped set up was efficient and could attend to many of the Citadel’s survivors’ needs, some patients they could only do as much as keep them breathing.  They couldn’t get the help they needed until they were in a hospital proper, but patients in need were starting to pour in and finally get the medical attention they needed. 

It was a relief.

Adrien checked in on his Keeper task force, making sure they were no longer closing off needed passageways or otherwise disrupting the cleanup efforts on the Citadel.  He walked the immediate vicinity of Huerta Memorial once he made it that way, and found that the area looked almost untouched, as if the Reapers or Cerberus had never even been there at all.

This confirmation was all he needed.  He nodded and made way to the hospital.

He walked through the doors as they parted, and was greeted by an asari matron and an eager salarian laying out plans.  The two finished their conversation before acknowledging Adrien standing there, and he made no move to interrupt.

“Primarch Victus,” the asari—Sheila Trialla, she’d previously introduced herself as—greeted him, the salarian adjacent her quieting down and nodding his head in a respectful turian greeting.  Adrien noted that he’d been getting that a lot from other species lately, and wondered whether it was due to his station of power, or expanding knowledge of turian customs.  _No matter_.

“Sheila,” Adrien started with a nod, “Rondel. How are the relocation efforts going?  Is there anything we can do to increase efficiency?  How about resources, where do we stand?”

Sheila smiled proudly at the Primarch, while Rondel pulled up readouts and spreadsheets on a datapad.  “Better than we hoped, Primarch.” Green markings crinkled under her eyes while she smiled before launching into her details.  “We have transported more than seventy-five percent of the Citadel’s triage patients to hospitals across each ward.  We believe that within the week, we will have the ability to begin transporting planetside patients to Citadel hospitals.”

“This is great news,” Adrien commended her, “Excellent work.”

“Thank you, Primarch.” She closed her eyes and nodded once more in gratitude.  “There’s something else, though.”

He perked up in curiosity, wordlessly urging her to continue.

“Rondel has been working with the Citadel’s communications experts to get our record keeping systems back up and running.” Sheila nudged Rondel, urging his attention to the conversation before them rather than the datapad in his hands.

“Ah, yes.” Adrien prepared for what was likely to be a lengthy, breathless explanation if his experience working with other salarians was any indication.  Rondell continued, “It’s strange, Primarch.  After Crucible fired, and Reapers fell, some technology started behaving… _oddly_.  Couldn’t make sense of it.  Record keeping troublesome, virus interfered with hospitals’ systems and, as I’m sure you could imagine, state of things made more difficult by this.  Ran tests, scans, experiments.  Reaper virus interfered.  Unexpected circumstance.”

“Hmm.” Adrien’s mandibles twitched in concentration before asking, “So the virus that we released using the Crucible is interfering with other, non-Reaper technology?  We didn’t expect this.  Any indication of what can be done?”

“None,” the salarian answered.  “However, have noticed effects… _slowing_. Some tech coming back to life, others resuming normal functionality.  It’s like they’ve…healed. Found something, thought Primarch might want to see.”

“Follow me.” Sheila took the lead and motioned with a nod and a smile, hands clasped behind her back but shoulders relaxed.  Whatever she was taking Adrien to see, it was something she thought he’d be happy about.  Her body language said it all.

They walked into an elevator, taking it two floors down and turning down a narrow corridor that housed private accommodations for high-profile patients. 

Adrien felt a spring of hope crawl up his throat, threatening his subharmonics to thrum expectantly.  He clamped it down, and stood up taller than before, the rigid Primarch once more as he followed the asari through the hallway.

She turned down a path ahead, and Adrien took but three steps forward and it hit him.

His heart pounded, eyes went wide.  He inhaled again, and again and again, making sure that it wasn’t his sense of smell betraying him of her presence.

 _No_.

His pace quickened, leaving Sheila several steps behind.  He didn’t look back to her, but knew she still followed as her footsteps pattered alongside the dull throb of his heartbeat.

Adrien stood outside of the door, and heard a _click_ and the interface went green.  He entered, and there she was. 

Viv lied in the bed, eyes closed.  Her body looked broken but not defeated, and she was clearly recognizable as _his_ Viv Shepard.  She was here, and now he needed to know how long they had known it was her.

“What’s the meaning of this?”  He stood at the side of the bed and wrapped a hand gently around her wrist as if to confirm the reality, confirm this wasn’t another twisted dream.  “Why wasn’t I notified immediately?”  The volume of his voice was elevated, subvocals thrumming in anger, frustration.

The asari stood still in the doorway, stepping forward and letting the door close behind her without saying a word.

Adrien bored into her, eyes heated and begging for her answer.

“There was a point to what Rondel was telling you, Primarch.” The asari remained calm, her demeanor a stark contrast to his.  Adrien flared and twitched his mandibles in frustration; the asari wasn’t getting to the point fast enough.

Adrien lovingly brushed his talons through what little hair remained on Viv’s head, sections of strands charred and frayed.  Stitches adorned the sides of her head and yet more sections of hair had been shaved off.

Her breathing seemed mechanical, but it relaxed as Adrien maintained his contact, feeding his warmth to her in whatever way he knew how.  Relief and anger battled within him, and he needed that spirits damned asari’s answer _now_.

“Then get _to_ that point.” Adrien’s words were a demand, and his patience waned.

“Rondel mentioned that releasing the virus using the Crucible had unintended consequences.” Sheila’s voice remained calm as she continued, and Adrien’s gaze moved back and forth between the asari and the woman he loved lying motionless before him.  He keened in grief, unable to hold it back anymore.

“Shepard was unrecognizable,” the asari explained.  “We found her about a week and a half ago, four days after the Crucible fired.  She was in a triage center over in Kithoi, transported there after her body was recovered.  We stitched her up and kept her breathing, but we didn’t know it was Commander Shepard. Record access was down, and you wouldn’t have wanted to see the state she was in.  We could do little more than keep her breathing.”

Adrien looked down at Viv, running a talon over her brow and down to her cheek. 

“Then,” Sheila continued, and Adrien looked back up at her as he rested his hand on the side of Viv’s face.  “Yesterday her wounds started rapidly healing, I’d never seen anything like it.  Up until yesterday morning, her face was so mangled we couldn’t tell it was her.  We couldn’t even tell if she was Alliance or not.  No dog tags, armor was fried.  We ran some tests, discovered her cybernetics, and that they were defunct as a side effect of the virus.  They’re working again, and healing her faster than we could have ever expected, or _hoped_ for.”

He was speechless, and the only sound in the room after the asari finished her explanation was the droning beep of the monitors attached to Viv and the disbelief sounding out of Adrien’s second larynx.  He’d never felt such a sense of shock, relief, and utter _disbelief_ at what was just relayed to him. 

But she was here, in his arms, under his touch, where he could give her everything and anything she’d want or need.  And he would do it, gladly, for the rest of their days, no matter if her body was broken, irreparable. 

He was hers, and she was his.  And they were in this together.

Adrien mustered up the will to speak after ghosting his eyes over her still form one more time, and he asked, “So just like that?  I find this a little hard to believe.  And I still find myself irritated that I was not contacted immediately upon her recognition.”

“I’m having a hard time believing it myself, Primarch.” The asari sounded honest, a minor consolation at least.  “And we had to make sure.  It seemed too good to be true, but whoever worked on those cybernetics of hers had planned for the worst.  You both should be eternally grateful to them.  She wouldn’t have had a chance otherwise.”

Adrien never thought he’d see the day where he would be _thankful_ to Cerberus, but he supposed stranger things had happened.

“When will she wake?”  He returned his gaze to his mate that lay before him; she was clearly hurt, but looked so peaceful, like something bearing down on her had just been lifted away.

“The doctors working her case sedated her for another series of tests,” Sheila answered.  “She’ll be awake within the next two to three hours.  You are welcome to stay.”

“I’d like some time alone with her, if that’s okay.”  Adrien didn’t know just why he was asking permission.  He’d stay whether they wanted him to or not.

“Of course, Primarch,” she said.  “And please, let us know if there is anything that we can assist you with.  I am sure that she will have many questions when she wakes, and we’d be more than happy to help her answer them.”

“You have my gratitude, doctor.”

The asari nodded, and left Adrien alone with his mate.

Before selfishly crawling into the bed with her and shielding her from the rest of the world outside, he pulled up his omni-tool and opened his link to the Normandy.

 _[Huerta Memorial; 8:45 AM] We’ve found her_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ robinapril


	14. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Viv assess their future while she heals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most characters owned by bioware.

Adrien laid there with her for what felt like both too much and not enough time.  Unless they were sleeping, he seldom went this long in her presence without hearing the song of her voice.  Even if her timbre was sad, it was hers and he wanted nothing more than to hear it spill from her lips.

One palm rested on the back of her head as he cradled her in his arms, talons tangled through the remnants of her hair.  Purring uncontained, he did everything in his power to envelop her in a shelter of comfort, security, warmth, and _him_.  She was his once more, and he wouldn’t take a single moment for granted.  Not that he had before, but a new vigor to protect and keep rose within his chest, having witnessed how she’d almost slipped from his grasp entirely.

 _Never again_.

He was unsure if she knew of turians and their overprotective tendencies toward their mates—especially after harm had befallen them—but she would soon find out.  Adrien only hoped she wouldn’t mind, because there was little, if anything, to be done to tamp down a turian’s drive to protect.

He’d explain those things later, though, because now all he could do was bathe in her scent and let his warmth pour from his form into hers.  Two hours they lay like this, Adrien holding on for dear life as she breathed.

Forever was worth the wait, if that’s what it took.

But just as that notion crossed his mind, Adrien felt her stir and his breath hitched in anticipation of finally, after so many nights feeling utterly lost without his strange human, meeting her bright green gaze. 

It was the only sight that mattered.

Viv let out a pained grunt, closing her eyes tightly as her body woke up, muscles tensing in reaction to the pain that met her first moments of wakefulness.  She leaned back, meeting resistance by way of Adrien’s form surrounding her and jolted, slightly, before turning her head to the side. The tension in her form that bubbled when she woke in his arms melted away, and she opened her eyes.

Green met amber, and they were _home_.

Viv didn’t even speak, she couldn’t; the best she could muster was a choked sob, and those emerald eyes of hers became pools of sweet relief.  She closed her lids back down after meeting his gaze, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she blinked them away.

Adrien didn’t say anything, he only held her tighter and purred the most soothing purr he could muster.  It reverberated through her being, through her very soul.

She breathed deep, willing herself to stop sobbing out of pure elation, relief that she was back where she belonged. 

“You found me.”  Viv’s words were a strained whisper, voice raw from disuse and struggling to keep down the emotions taking up residence in her throat.

“I couldn’t have lived with myself if I hadn’t.”  His hand rested on the back of her head, holding her close to him, doing everything he knew to make her feel safe, warm.  Adrien never wanted to let go. 

“How do you feel?” He asked her after a moment of silence, just confirming this was _real_.

“I’ve been better,” Viv deadpanned.  “But I’ve also been worse.  This is strange, Adrien.”

“Don’t dwell too much on it now.”  Adrien didn’t want her to worry, especially not about something they could most certainly figure out later.

“It’s a bit hard not to,” she said.  “One minute I’m up there, the next in a triage center, and then here in your arms.  I remember the last couple days, getting me from point A to point B.  But nothing before that.  I feel like I was, like…I was really dead.  Again.”

A part of Adrien knew that she would be taken back to thoughts of Alchera, of everything going black.  But this wasn’t then. She was here, alive, _his_.

“But you’re not,” Adrien thrummed in reassurance, speaking in soft dual tones to ease Viv’s worry.  “You’re here, with me.  And we won, Viv.  We won.”

Viv couldn’t help but quietly sob once more, so utterly thankful, and not knowing what else to do.  She nuzzled into Adrien’s chest, her tears dampening his tunic. 

They rested together, for some time.  It was she who broke the silence, wanting and willing to attempt to recap how she ended up here, and what caused her to regain consciousness.  Viv was told about her cybernetics rapidly healing her wounds, waking her up.  She heard something about the Reaper virus affecting tech.  But she wasn’t sure where that left her, or if that meant that the Reapers themselves could come back, too.  Every thought led her to another series of questions. 

So, she started from the top.

“I remember deploying the virus,” she started, breaking the silence as Adrien only hummed in interest, signaling for her to continue if she wanted to. 

“Everything shook, so _hard_.  I felt broken before all that, but once those quakes set in it was like pieces of me were falling away one by one.”

“Green lights?” Adrien asked her, attempting to get his timelines with her actions and what they saw happen on Earth as Viv completed her task on the Citadel during the final onslaught.

“Yeah, sort of.”  She weakly nodded, brows scrunching together as if trying to figure out a better way to describe it.  “As soon as I linked everything up, the color of the lighting in the room was probably the least of my priorities, but yeah it looked a little green.”

Adrien chuffed at her—leave it to Viv to maintain a sense of humor, even while recalling the darkest of memories.

“But shortly after that, I just had these pictures in my head of everything I was afraid to lose.  It wasn’t like Alchera, when it just felt like a waste.  No, this…even if I didn’t come out on the other side it felt…it felt like victory.”

Adrien’s thoughts were drawn to Tarquin at those words from her, his last being _‘victory, at any cost.’_   Viv squeezed into him a little harder at the slight keen to his subvocals, wordlessly in understanding.

“Just as quickly as those images flew by though, everything just went dark.  I was there but I wasn’t, and it just felt, I don’t know…safe?  It was strange, like the purgatory you hear about in old Earth Catholicism.”

Adrien didn’t quite understand the reference, but knew what she was getting at.  He only listened and let her continue, acknowledging that it wasn’t the time for a human theology lesson.

“I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, I had nothing tethering me to reality.”  She spoke softly, pausing only briefly before resuming her recounting of events.  “Then in the last few days, I got these little glimpses of my surroundings.  Like something in me lit up, but then quickly darkened back down.  There were voices, lights.  But I couldn’t move.”

Adrien recalled his conversation with the salarian earlier that day—comm systems coming back to life, the virus affecting machinery and those effects slowly ceasing.  The timeline sounded right, and he again found some sense of relief in that her articulation of events aligned with the timeframe he had been privy to. 

 _No memory loss, that’s good_.

If Viv knew that he was silently appraising her condition, she’d have words for him.  So he kept those musings to himself.

“It hurt so bad, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.” Viv interrupted his thoughts, and recalled yet another memory, one that Adrien perhaps _hoped_ she forgot.  “I hadn’t felt anything like it since Mindoir.”

He clutched her to his chest even more fiercely than before, though careful not to hurt her.  The two returned to silence as it settled like a fleece blanket over them.  This was comfort and relief rolled into one, and he was sure not even the spirits of Palaven or Earth could do a damn thing to part them. 

“You don’t have to keep going over this is you don’t want to, Viv,” Adrien assured her in rumbling tones; if it was too painful, she needn’t continue.  Viv was stubborn, though, and her next words didn’t surprise him.

“I’ve gotta get this out while it’s fresh, ok?” She said ‘ok’ as if she was asking for reassurance rather than permission—Viv never asked permission.

Adrien signaled her to continue with a committal hum.

“I’d wake up here and there, all I could hear were footsteps and monitors,” she recalled.  “Then there was this long period of time with only darkness, only black.  I was worried I’d never wake up.”

Adrien tangled his talons in her hair, gently and careful of her burns and stitches. 

“Then the day before last, things just didn’t seem…dark, not anymore.  Feeling started coming back, and it hurt—boy, did it hurt.”

“I think you’re overlapping, dear one.” The comment was Adrien’s attempt at helping her get her timelines straight. 

It wasn’t well received, and Viv elbowed him in the gut.

“Let me find my rhythm here, okay?  I’ve been through a lot.”

She looked up at him and he raised a brow plate at her, quirking a mandible ever so slightly in a smirk at her forthrightness.  Viv rolled her eyes at him, continuing her recount.

“Things didn’t feel dark anymore.” She resumed her line of thinking before Adrien had interrupted her, and her tone spoke of someone whose train of thought had been derailed, and she made a point of emphasizing that fact.

Adrien wouldn’t interrupt anymore.

“…and I started getting feeling back that wasn’t only _pain_.  I could move, I felt stronger.  And then someone recognized me.  I think they were pretty embarrassed that it took them that long to connect the dots, to be honest.”

“I smelled you before I saw you,” Adrien confessed.  The revelation earned him a warm smile, before Viv resumed.

“I probably wouldn’t have recognized myself either.  And they didn’t have the sense of smell of this smug turian that I know, so they didn’t really have anything to be embarrassed about.”

They shared a quiet laugh, Adrien reveling in how remarkably _Viv_ she was; he wasn’t sure what he expected, but this wasn’t it.

“Then after they recognized me, they started running all these tests trying to figure out the ‘key’ to my miraculous recovery. I spent most of the last days I can remember sedated, all the damn _tests_.”

She sounded tired when she talked about that fragment of the last few days, and Adrien took note of that. There may be some hospital personnel to reprimand.  _Later_.

“Your cybernetics,” Adrien interjected.  “They told me when they brought me down here.  I _hated_ that moment of gratitude toward Cerberus.”

“Well you don’t have to feel too dirty then, because those were _all_ Miranda.” Viv was quick to quell those feelings in him, knowing he felt dirty enough in his current line of work.  No need to add to those lingering sentiments.

She could feel the relief in his body, some of his internal conflict draining away.

“They told me where they found me, you know.”

The both shifted to better maintain eye contact, Adrien patiently waiting for her to speak again.  He didn’t want to pry or interrupt, and whatever she told him was by her choice and hers alone. 

“It was some locked off section of the Citadel, the Keepers made it hard to find. Reaper influence, keeping people away from the Catalyst’s interface.”

Adrien made a mental note to explain to her the problems his task force encountered with the Keepers, when she needed a good laugh.

“Where or how you were found makes no difference now,” he said.  “You’re here, with me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know, Adrien.”

Silence, again, took the reigns and neither could care less.  They didn’t need words to communicate the bliss they both felt.  They nodded off, and Adrien woke to an empty bed and after a moment of panic, he heard the toilet flush and Viv walked out of the bathroom with her telltale swagger.

 _Remarkable woman_.

In the hours they slept, even more of her wounds healed over and the worst of them were well on their way.  There was still pain to her step, sure, but the motions of her legs and hips told of her, of how much of her was really coming back.

Adrien would never tire of seeing that stride.

 

\---

 

Adrien had Rozzus step in for his duties for the week, wanting to spend every possible moment with Viv.  Sparatus seemed to understand, and the rest of his team did too.  While not everyone was necessarily on board with his relationship to Shepard, they understood that there was no coming between a turian and his injured mate. 

There were no further arguments on the matter.

He helped her in the hospital, as the doctors in charge wanted to keep her under close observation despite the rapid pace of her healing. 

Reports flowed in of the other tech in the galaxy waking back up, readings even came through that the relays might be back up and running in short time, too.  A spike of nervous tension struck Adrien, fearful at the prospect of getting back to Palaven.  His homeworld needed him, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to step back into the thick of it yet.  The time would come at some point, but not just yet.

They still had time; they needed to figure out the relay situation first.  Acknowledging this pulled him from his thoughts, which centered directly onto the woman on his arm, watching news reports of the aftermath.

With communications systems being mostly broken down until recently, proper news footage hadn’t been prevalent after the Crucible fired.  Now, it was all there was to watch.  Both Adrien and Viv were disappointed, seeing as how some of the bravest they’d fought alongside couldn’t make it, yet tabloid scum like Al-Jilani seemed to make it out unscathed.

_There is no justice in this galaxy._

Viv sat upright, the anxiety in her form from days of sitting still and doing nothing started taking a toll.  She needed out of here; she had folks to talk to, a life to get sorted out.

She had a Primarch to marry, and she was eager to get on with it.

Viv was itching to get to so many things, and her previous duties as a Commander and a Spectre did not rank on that list. 

She figured it was best to have that conversation now, while she and Adrien still had some semblance of privacy.

“I assume you’ve been in contact with the Normandy?” She asked him, knowing his answer already.

“Yes, I have,” he said, before launching into further detail.  “Marooned, on Virmire.  Was able to get in touch with them about five days after the Crucible.  They have the supplies they need, for now.  And they’re hoping the relays come back up, because once repairs to the ship are done, it’ll take some time by only FTL, and we’re not sure they would be able to find the fuel to get them that far.”

“Well they might be in luck then.”  Viv tried for reassurance, recalling the hope paraded across the news of the relays coming back, slowly but surely.

_Quit dodging, Viv.  Just do it._

After chiding herself, she mustered the courage and braced for the disappointment that Adrien was sure to have toward her decision.  The Alliance was all she ever knew.  Like Adrien, war was her resume—and she wasn’t entirely sure what a life outside of that looked like.  She was done with the Alliance, done with the Spectres.  Her body felt almost back to its normal self, despite what it went through in the last few weeks.

She didn’t want to use that body for fighting.  Not anymore.

“I’m leaving the Alliance,” she revealed.  “The Spectres, too.”

Adrien trilled in contemplation, before risking a revelation himself.

“I was hoping you’d say that, if I’m being honest.”

She raised a brow at him, silently asking for him to continue.

“If you step back into the fold, you know that they will just take advantage of your good graces.  They appreciate what you’ve been through now, but it won’t last.  Soon, you’ll become a political scapegoat yet again.  Gratitude only goes so far, Viv.  I’ve been around long enough to learn that.”

She contemplated his words, but only for a short moment.  This was a large part of her reason for leaving, a larger part of her just acknowledged that she didn’t have much more to give.  She wanted to work, wanted to make a difference—but this time around, she’d figure out another way.  The time of blind service to others had passed, and the time to focus on building a future—whatever said future might look like—with Adrien was all she could ponder.

“I’m going wherever you’re going, Adrien.”  She said it almost like a question, then silenced and waited for his reply.

“You know once the relays are back, I’ll have to return to Palaven.”  His words were almost a question too; he was testing the waters, hoping beyond hope that she’d volunteer to come with him.  He didn’t want to beg.

Adrien hated begging.

“I know,” she said, softly.

No longer fearful of breaking her, Adrien rumbled and pulled her on top of him, holding her tightly to his chest while he purred his relief. 

 _Mine_.

 _His_.

They were in this together.  They would be, until the forces of nature pulled them apart.

“I’ve received word from Cipritine,” he started, figuring it best to fill her in on the details he had.  It was about to be her home, too.  She needed to know.  “Reconstruction there is not going as smoothly as it is here.  It’ll be months before things get back to running as they should be.  I’ve got my work cut out for me when we get there.”

“It’s a matter of resources, I take it?” Viv asked, understanding that since the final push happened on Earth, there were far more available to help here than all the way out in the Apien Crest. 

“In part, yes.” He confirmed her line of reasoning and launched into more detail, “The other part is a lack of coordination.  The remnants of the Hierarchy are trying, but it’s slow going.  I’m thinking of asking Garrus for his help, once the Normandy makes it back.”

“I’m sure he’d be honored,” Viv said through a smile.  “He looks up to you a great deal, you know?”

Adrien hummed fondly.  He was cognizant of this, but would never let the younger turian know.

“He did great work at the docks, helping with the refugees.  We could use that skill on Palaven. I’m sure he hates politics as much as the both of us, and I have a second-in-command assigned for now, but nobody has been formally appointed.  Think he’d do it?”

“To be honest, I really don’t know,” she said.  “But it wouldn’t hurt to ask.  I’m sure it would be better than going back to C-Sec, and with his father’s reputation, seems like he was Hierarchy-bound regardless.”

“Oh Castis will just be _thrilled_ ,” Adrien remarked. “Heard from him and Solana too, by the way.  Safe, once they made it off world.”

“Is there anyone you _don’t_ know?”  Viv’s tone was incredulous, slightly poking fun at his connectedness, while knowing he loathed the political entrenchment that his job entailed.

“As you’ve heard, I’m sure, Vakarian is a big name.  So is Victus.  The clans go way back.  Of course I’m familiar with the patriarch.”

Viv rolled her eyes and grinned at Adrien underneath her before shifting her position, thighs gripping at his waist tightly as she good-naturedly slapped him on the chest.

Adrien squinted back at her as he wrapped his hands around her waist.

“Oh how I have missed this,” he crooned at her, tracing his taloned thumbs over her hospital gown at the bottom of her ribcage.  “But I will not have my way with you while you’re still healing, no matter how great you say you feel.”

“Turian honor and all that?” She joked, and Adrien gave her a lopsided smirk.

“We have all the time in the world, Viv.  No need to rush back into it.  Once you’re better, though, all bets are off.  I can barely keep my hands to myself as it is.”

She smiled at that, then collapsed back into his chest.  Viv nuzzled him with the side of her face, content to simply _be_.

 

\---

 

Viv was released from Huerta a few days later.  Her cybernetics had almost healed her in entirety, and she made a mental note to thank Miranda with every fiber of her being.  She should have died up there, but she didn’t.  And Miranda was the reason why.  It was a debt that Viv didn’t know how to repay, but she’d figure it out.  One day.

The Council granted she and Adrien temporary housing on the Presidium, keeping them close enough to work together with the Council in reconstruction efforts on the station.  There was little more they could do planetside; the efforts were going swimmingly, and there were other matters to attend to. 

Viv needed to break the news, to both the Alliance and the Council that she would not be returning to her postings with either entity.   

She was nervous, but excited for the sense of victory she’d feel at deciding her own fate, and the chance at something new.  Viv had the opportunity to build a life that she never dreamed of, and she and Adrien spent time trying to figure out how best she could make herself useful.  She’d need the Council’s permission, of course, but given the state of things, she didn’t think that would end up being much of a problem.

The galaxy, for the first time, was running as a cohesive unit—at least on Earth.  Viv retained hope that this could be the case elsewhere, that this cohesion could be harnessed and nurtured.  She wanted to be one of those nurturing it.  She and Adrien had a plan, and Viv was eager to see it come to fruition.

 

If Adrien was resigned to a life of politics, it was the best Viv could do to support him in his endeavors.  So, arm in arm, they approached the Council chambers together.

An assistant met them, leading them in to approach the two councilors in the flesh, and the other two present via holo. 

“Commander Shepard.”  Sparatus seemed to sing her title, but Viv was quick to correct him.

“Actually, Councilor,” she started. “After today, I’m hoping that will no longer be my title.”

Sparatus’ mandibles flared as he contemplated her revelation, and Tevos only stared at Viv wide-eyed, clearly surprised at such an admission.  They didn’t interrupt though, and motioned for her to continue.

“Consider this my official resignation from the Spectres,” she said.  “And after this meeting, I am filling out my Alliance retirement paperwork as well.  I don’t have that kind of fight in me, not anymore.”

“But what of reconstruction?” Linron piped up, frustrated.  “The mess that the genophage cure is sure to create is in part _your_ responsibility to handle, _Commander_ Shepard.”

Adrien cringed at the condescending use of her title.  He wasn’t having any of it.

“With all due respect, Councilor, I think Shepard here has given enough.  This is the sort of gratitude she’s met with?  After all she’s sacrificed?  You should be _ashamed_ of yourself, Linron.”  Adrien made no effort to mask the growl in his voice. 

The other three councilors winced at the use of the salarian councilor’s name, Sparatus especially as he was able to understand the subvocals underlying Adrien’s words.  They didn’t speak, though, clearly thinking the best course of action was to hear the pair out and not aid and abet the throwing of insults.

Parasini only quietly appraised the situation, saving her words for later should she need them.

Viv continued, not giving Linron the satisfaction of a reply.  She glanced at Adrien and he nodded, signaling for her to speak—that he had her back, no matter what.

“The Primarch and I have been discussing potential avenues for me to still be of assistance, outside of the military and outside of the Spectres.  On Earth, the rebuilding effort is only going as well as it is because all of the races are working _together_.”

“This is true, comm- Shepard.”  Sparatus stopped himself, seemingly unsure of just _what_ he was supposed to call her now.

“Ambassador,” Viv said, sensing Sparatus’ hesitation.  The councilors all spared glances at each other, before looking back to Shepard before them.

“On the Normandy, the Primarch and I were able to get races to work together that have been feuding for _years_.  Reconstruction is happening now, but what happens after that?  Do we go back to the way things were?  Do we chalk it up to a job well done, and continue _hating_ each other?  After all we’ve collectively been through, I don’t want to see that happen.”

“So what exactly are you suggesting?”  Tevos asked; her tone was interested, though—not condescending or doubtful.  Viv had hope for them yet.

“I am suggesting that we appoint ambassadors, but ambassadors that represent two species.  We have ambassadors for most races already, but we don’t have them working _together_.  I think I can help make this happen, and I’d like to start by representing the interests of humans and turians.  We have a storied past, but while we were out during the war, rallying support—it was new to them, seeing a turian and a human working together like that.  But it _worked_.  We will need that sort of cooperation, going forward.  And I’d like to facilitate it, at least with our two races, with the help of the Primarch.” 

She gripped Adrien’s hand at that, and he spared a faint smile for her.  Viv smiled back, then looked back to the councilors.

“This is a bit of a tall order, Shepard,” Tevos said, not balking at the idea, but not immediately agreeing to it either.  “Please correct me if I am misunderstanding.  You’re suggesting appointing representatives with experience working with the other races.  So you would be a liaison for humans and turians, with the help of the Primarch.  We’d need others with similar backgrounds, and we’d make the appointments based on reputation, and peaceful solutions to the galaxy’s problems.”

As Tevos spoke, Viv thought of Tali—her facilitating the newfound relationship between the geth and the quarian people.  She thought of Wrex, and how he worked together with Mordin in establishing the cure. 

She knew this could work.

“That’s exactly what I’m proposing, Councilor.” Viv’s words held conviction, and the Council should have known by this point that it would be rather difficult to get Shepard to stand down from anything she believed in.  If this was where she thought she could be of the most use outside of the Alliance, outside of the Spectres—who were they to argue?

The Councilors huddled together, somewhat strangely considering that two of them were there via holo and not in the flesh, but their words were effectively mumbled during their moment of deliberation.  Viv only gripped Adrien’s hand harder, begging for support, for her anchor.

The Councilors turned around, gazing upon Shepard and Victus once more.

Sparatus was the first to speak, and he said “Granted, Ambassador.  But I will leave it to you and the Primarch to establish the right people for the job.  You have more experience in these matters than we do, and the Council doesn’t have the most pristine record of helping everyone get along.”

Viv grinned ear to ear, and looked at Adrien to catch him doing the same in his own turian way.

“Unless you have anything else to bring to our attention, Ambassador,” Councilor Parasini spoke, “then this meeting is adjourned.  Congratulations, Shepard.  We can’t wait to see what you’ll accomplish.”

And at that, both the Primarch and the Ambassador left the chambers, making way back to their temporary accommodations to celebrate on their own terms.

They won, again.  And both were beginning to appreciate that pattern—their best days were still ahead, and there were so many more victories to be found.

For once, since their coupling began, the future looked _bright_. 

They were both ready to face it head on, side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ robinapril


	15. Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 months later. 
> 
> NSFW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> characters owned by bioware.

The sidewalk carved through rows and blocks of carbon-copy houses, they all looked the same in shape, but some were varying shades of the same bland colors.  Beige, grey, dark blue, cream—they were barely discernible in the silver moonlight.

Stars overhead flickered bright, a galaxy above staring down as her feet pressed on with a light patter on the pristine concrete below.  Warm wind licked her cheeks and leaves whispered their secrets to her as the breeze wove through the trees.

Serene, it felt.  Viv never remembered feeling such bliss.  She never had. 

Not until he came along.

Lilacs were in bloom, and as she progressed down her path of no resistance the fragrance grew stronger and her eyelids lazily drifted downward, closing briefly as she lost herself in the feeling.

She stopped to wonder if she wanted to be found. 

Everything ahead was new, but everything behind her seemed the same.  The houses lining the street, while all identical save for their hue, weren’t ugly, no—they were the same, and Viv liked having no surprises.

She felt comfortable, warm, content.

 _Content_.

 _And loved_.

Viv was all of these things, rolled into one.  She felt restored, for the first time she could dare remember. 

Pausing her steps, she stopped for a moment to simply be; she wanted to observe, be present. 

 _Inhale, exhale_.

She closed her eyes and repeated those steps.

 _Inhale, exhale_.

When the breath left her lungs, she opened her eyes and looked down at her sneaker-clad feet, planted firmly on the sidewalk below her.  Where her foot met the concrete, just underneath the inside of her left arch, a tiny crack appeared.  It wasn’t there before.

 _Odd_.

It wasn’t there before, in fact—the entire vicinity was immaculate, manicured.  It was something so small, a miniscule thing.  But the crack didn’t belong.  Viv picked up her foot and the fissure grew larger and continued growing over minutes dragging into eons.

Viv furrowed her brows, leaning down to get a closer look at the thing, strange as it was.  She was never one to make too much of very little, but this seemed so out of place, _so wrong_.  Viv put her foot back down and the scrape of concrete against concrete disrupted the formerly heavy silence.

Her heart thumped faster in her chest.

Walking forward, the pulsing waves of her heartbeat guided her steps.  As the beating quickened in pace, so too did the motions of her feet.  The sound of grinding concrete grew louder as she progressed; Viv felt small quakes shaking the earth below.

She spared another glance, looking beyond her rapidly rising and falling knees—with every step, more fissures parted the ground.

There was nothing but rubble in her wake as she turned her head and fixed her gaze behind her. 

_Inhale, exhale._

A momentary pause, and Viv averted her eyes from the destruction behind her and back to the clean rows of houses in front of her.  And just as her feet moved her body forward, the light from the moon illuminating her surroundings went dark.

She stood still, in place—no more Luna, no more stars.  Her world turned black, and the only sense Viv was privy to was her hearing.  The grinding concrete never stopped, consuming her mind in that moment.

And just as she thought that the shifting and undulating ground was the last thing she would ever hear, it stopped and the only sounds she heard were her own echoing breaths with the backdrop of the repeated beating of her heart, the muscle about to crack open her ribcage any moment now.

Viv was unmoving, paralyzed.  All sense of direction and purpose fled.  She all but forgot those feelings of contentment from mere moments ago— _how quickly things can change_.  It was a lesson she should have learned long ago.

But then, just as she thought she’d be shrouded in darkness forever, the area slowly lit back up with a red glow and she realized that this was not the same place she stood just seconds ago.  Viv’s surroundings shifted completely when the darkness descended, and everything went silent.

 _Inhale, exhale_.

The dim red luminosity creeped in, and it made Viv think of Omega—dismal place that it was—and the comparison felt appropriate.  She was still, calculating.  She didn’t know what her next move should be, where she should go.  She was alone, and unaided she never had the answers.  When it was just Viv, only herself asking the questions—she never really knew.  Never had.  That’s what made her crew so important to her, and without them?  She felt like _nothing_.

With no answers or solutions to speak of, she did what she always did and put one foot in front of the other.  As she took her first step, the world around swirled past her.  Viv gasped, and the sensation of being thrusted forward nearly two-hundred yards if looking behind her and gauging what vague landmarks indicated about her trajectory was any measure of telling, was a bit overwhelming.  Her head spun in place, she didn’t know what was happening to her or around her.

She tried to move one foot in front of the other once more, and lurched forward at incredible speeds yet again.

And again.  Again.

Several leaping steps in, she put great distance between where she once stood and her current position.  She was still situated on a pathway, but it was no longer concrete under her feet.  Black and grey cobblestones disrupted her steps; switching from smooth concrete to rocky sidewalks was jarring, and it took her a moment to adjust to the new patterns required of her feet.

Having made so much distance with so little effort, new scenery came into view and she needed a moment to evaluate, to gain some sentiment of what her next actions should be.  Up ahead, several hundred feet in front of her, she could make out an old building that seemed—at least from this vantage point—reminiscent of an old church of gothic architecture.  From this distance even, the structure was foreboding, haunting in a way.

She took another step forward, moving her form several hundred feet through the red-hued scenery.  It took no effort to find herself on the stairs in front of the building, the church; steps adorned with the same cobblestone that her path morphed into. She paused and looked up at the edifice dwarfing her.

 _Inhale, exhale_.

Dark grey stone comprised the building, standing over a hundred feet tall.  A rod-iron cross adorned the steeple, and windows of stained glass reflected only red back down to her.  The double doors that marked the structure’s entry stood perhaps fifteen feet in height.  They were grey, much like damn near everything else but again, looked red as the flecked paint reflected the simmering hue.

It looked like Omega met the Dark Ages of old Earth, and it sent her guts churning; she felt like she was about to be sick and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.  So again, Viv did what she always did—she put one foot in front of the other, and ascended the steps.

As she moved her feet, the stone beneath her shuddered at each contact between herself and the ground.  Viv felt unstable; she had nothing to cling to, not even her own wits.

She stepped forward again, and the instability only heightened.  With every move forward, it grew increasingly worse.  Ten steps down, ten more to go.  At the very least, the world wasn’t whirling anymore.  She could deal with wobbly footing, but add that to the world around her speeding past—even for Commander Viv Shepard, there was only so much a person could weather.

Five more steps.

 _Inhale, exhale_.

She was almost there; she’d will herself forward if it was the last thing she did.

Five more steps.

Viv made it, and she stood in front of the heavy doors guarding the church’s threshold. She ran careful fingers over the rough wooden texture and looked at the large iron door knocker.  It was a sculpture of some demon, it appeared.  It made no sense being the first thing someone would see when entering a place of worship, and the juxtaposition sent chills down her spine.  She scrunched her eyebrows in concentration before deciding on her next move.

She tried to open the door, but it was barred from the other side.  Viv had already made it this far, and she didn’t think that searching for an alternate entrance was the proper course of action here.  So, the only other readily available choice was to knock the door, and wait in trepidation at what might welcome her inside.

_Thud, thud, thud._

And then she waited.

 _Inhale, exhale_.

On her exhale, Viv heard heavy steps approaching the other side of the door.  Creaking metal, the heavy sound of the wood barring the door dropping to the ground rang through, and the doorframe groaned as the heavy doors parted.  She took a tentative step forward, trying to peek into the entrance as she advanced.  Looking to the left, then to the right; Viv stepped inside.

She was greeted with a stretching entryway illuminated by flickering candlelight.  The floor looked like polished marble and reflected some of the faint glow provided by the rows of candles lighting the path onward.  Tall columns lined the walkway, arching into ornate carvings that cradled the church’s towering ceiling. 

There was no immediate sense of threat, so she stepped forward. 

Without interference on her part, the moment Viv cleared the entryway the doors shifted closed.  The noise startled her, and she looked for a culprit but found none. 

 _Inhale, exhale_.

One foot in front of the other.

Viv’s footsteps echoed off the walls, her breaths filled the void of sound when her steps weren’t.  Her pacing was slow, calculated—the world wasn’t slipping past her like it was before.  But when she looked behind her, it appeared that she had covered more ground than she realized.  The distance achieved gave the appearance of more progression than she felt she’d made; she closed her eyes and attempted to stave away the insecurity of this precarious situation.

There was an altar at the end of the walkway, tables held rows upon rows of white candles in red glass containers.  The whole place looked as if it were draped with the same red lighting that had ignited the world outside.  The aesthetic was connected, somehow, but she couldn’t care to solve that problem now.  Viv needed to get up to that altar. An internal force pulled her there, and it was one she couldn’t ignore.  She felt driven, obligated. 

She had to see what was up there, she needed to _know_ what was up there.

Viv quickened her pace, putting more and more distance between herself and the door through which she entered.  The altar didn’t seem to be getting any closer, though.  It maintained the same distance it was the moment she first noticed it, despite the door to the old church growing farther and farther away.  It made no sense, but she still needed to try.

She had to.  Viv felt called to, a _need_ to.  She couldn’t explain it, but she had to understand it. 

Viv started running, using every muscle in her once broken body to pull her forward.  The distance between herself and the doors grew ever larger, but the altar didn’t get closer.  Sweat drenched her skin, both from the exertion of running forward as fast as she could as well as the cold clamminess driven forward by her anxiety and helplessness over the predicament. 

After running for what felt like hours, she stopped to catch her breath—still no closer to the altar than when she arrived, but the doors were so far away that they looked only inches tall.  She looked back to the altar, then back to the doors, and the walkway was no longer empty.

A dark figure stood in the middle of the path, and she estimated the new presence was about halfway between herself and the doors.  She looked back to the altar, then back behind her—the figure was closer, hundreds of feet closer than her first glance told her.

Panic rose in her throat, heart beating yet harder from her sprinting and discomfort at the new presence, seemingly taunting her— _waiting_ for her.

“Hello?”  Viv rasped, and her voice held none of the vigor it usually did.  She reached up and ran her fingers over her throat as if that would fix it, and give her the power to vocalize as if she were in command of the situation.  It didn’t, and she tried again.

“Hello?”  She called out, and her voice was still hoarse and seemingly unacknowledged by the force of this _being_ , this—thing.  She was hesitant to call it a person.

The dark figure didn’t respond, but Viv looked back to the altar and back behind her again and it was standing mere feet from her.  A dark robe adorned its frame, face shrouded in darkness.  Viv could see fingers poking through the ends of the robe’s sleeves—grey, decaying flesh stretched over knobby bones.

“Who are you?” She asked it, and the only answer she got was a hand reaching out to her and gripping her firmly at the wrist.  Viv gasped, and her world was immersed in darkness once more.  At the top of her attempt at filling her lungs, she jolted awake and realized that the darkness that now embraced her was familiar—her breathing returned to normal after she willed it to do so, and she realized she was laying in bed, next to Adrien.

She rolled over onto her side, facing away from him and burying her face into her pillows to muffle her labored breaths.  Adrien didn’t need to know that she had another nightmare—he was trying to help her through this, but Viv knew that he felt like he was at a loss.  He felt useless when he couldn’t help solving her problems, and she hated adding that feeling to his ongoing stresses of being a leader on the galactic stage.

This one, then—she tried to keep to herself.  But she should have known better than to think efforts of hiding anything from Adrien would be successful.  He read her too well for his own good.

She was sleeping in boy shorts and a tank top, and amid writhing in sleep, her shirt had crept up and exposed her midsection.  Adrien’s hand found a home at the dip in her waist and with his fingers lazily draped over her clammy skin, he pulled her close.

He spoke up in sleepy dual tones and said, “You can’t try to hide this from me forever.”  Adrien’s voice was laced with genuine concern—he hated that she was going through this, that there was little that he could do for her aside from simply _being there_. 

Adrien snaked his arm up so his hand rested on her solar plexus, wrist between her breasts and he pulled her tighter against his chest and Viv was met with soothing rumbles at the increased contact.  “It’s been four months, and it’s only gotten worse.  Let me find you the help that you need, Viv.”

“Adrien,” she started, “as long as I’m waking up next to you, I have all the help that I need.”

“You flatter me, darling,” he replied.  “But your flattery only goes so far.  Let me help you.”

Viv stayed quiet for a moment, thinking of a rebuttal.  She decided on compromise and said, “We have the relays almost back in working order.  We might be Citadel-only residents for maybe another two months.  How about I get help when we get settled on Palaven if it doesn’t get better by then?”

“Hmm.” Adrien contemplated her words, and said as he nuzzled the side of her neck, “I’ll hold you to that.”

And then, he let it go.  He’d make sure she got what she needed, but the last thing he wanted to do was push the issue when she clearly wasn’t ready to deal with it—things were still raw, and he’d expected an adjustment period after all Viv went through.  Hell, he was still adjusting himself.  Adrien had no expectations of Viv, and he was willing to help her through the readjustment period in any way he knew how to.

“In the interim, is there anything I can do to help?”  His question was earnest, though the answer was always the same.

“I can think of a few ways.”  Viv’s tone was cheeky, drifting away from the breathless, exasperated quality to her vocalizations before.

Adrien was no stranger to Viv’s avoidance techniques—she often used seduction as a means of circumventing her problems, though Adrien couldn’t be upset with her for it.  He’d benefited from such techniques, after all.  And if such behavior helped keep her troubles at bay, if only for a little while, he was happy to help—and not for his own gratification.  Turians used sex as a method of stress release, and some humans needed the same kinds of attentions to alleviate their burdens. 

This was something that he _could_ do, and in a way made him feel less powerless over their situation.  Sex was a temporary reprieve from their problems, and it gave them a chance to just be lost in each other, and not in the aftermath.

Viv ran her hand over his arm, fingers dancing over his plating until she met the hand still resting on her chest.  She laced her five fingers through his three, and his purring intensified. A few clicks and rumbles sounded out of his second vocal chords that sounded just plain _dirty_.

She pulled his hand up, taking care to gently kiss his knuckles as he buried his face in her hair, eagerly inhaling.

“Every damn time, Viv,” he said, straining to get the words out through the filthy, incoherent sounds emitting from his subvocals.

“What’s that?”  She asked as she pushed her body into him, ass pressing against his already loosened pelvic plates.  The tip of his slickened length insistently pressed against her as he tightened his hold on her.

“Smelling us together…” He punctuated his thought with a nip to her neck, applying just the faintest pressure with his mouth plates.  “…you make me feel _drunk_.”

Letting her eyelids drift closed, she smiled and hummed in reaction to his words.  Viv had never felt so loved in her life; she didn’t understand how she got so lucky in being able to hold on to this, but questioning it did her no good.

She twisted her neck, putting them face to face and she planted a sleepy kiss to his mouth that he returned by pressing his forehead to hers.  Adrien rumbled yet harder at the contact, and she felt his cock slipping out the rest of the way, leaving a wet spot on her shorts.  Viv lifted her leg and Adrien dragged his hand down her body and gripped her thigh, helping keep it in place.  She shimmed out of her shorts as Adrien slid them down her legs, and he carelessly tossed them over the side of their bed. 

Even when they had sleepy, lazy sex, Viv always marveled at the easy strength he displayed.  His talons gripped into her thick thigh muscles, puncturing her skin in just the way she liked.  Her arousal grew, and the slick fluids marking her current state chilled her cunt as the air in the room drifted over her exposed sex.

Adrien wove his arm under neck to support her, and his hand came down to her cloth-covered breast and toyed with a pert nipple.  Viv lightly sighed, loving the scrape of his talons over the hardened bud, even over cloth.  In reaction, she maneuvered her hips and caught his ridged member between her folds and rotated her hips, relishing in every ridge and groove that slid over her most sensitive spots.

He gripped her harder, and adjusted his own arrangement as he positioned his tip at the cusp of her heat.  He growled as he slid in, and Viv breathed heavily as he hilted himself.  His keel pressed against her, but she’d long since gotten used to it. The feeling was as welcome as her first cup of coffee of the day. 

It meant she was _home_ , right where she needed to be.

Viv met his slow thrusts with languid rolls of her hips.  From this angle, he hit _all_ the right spots and he pulled her leg back more firmly, leaving her as open for him as possible from this position.  He nipped and licked his way up and down her neck, to under her jawbone and behind her ear.  Once he reached the junction of her shoulder and neck, Viv felt the familiar swelling of the base of his cock and knew he must be getting close.

She doubled down, moving her hips with more intent to help him find his release.  Adrien wouldn’t have this, though.  He removed his hand from her thigh, bringing a finger to rub slow circles over the sensitive skin around and over her clit.  Viv moaned, and felt her impending peak as he continued his ministrations.

With a few more slow motions of his finger, she climaxed, and her walls gripped his cock in sharp pulses.  Viv moaned as her high crested and Adrien dragged his hand up over her waist.  He left behind trails of her arousal over her torso until he found her mouth and slipped a talon inside.  She sucked, and this encouraged a few more short, sharp thrusts from him and he spilled his release inside her.

He growled as his seed spurted against the tight muscles that gripped him, delivering slow, dragging movements that almost made Viv want for round two.  He nipped her neck and pulled his cock out of her before he could be tempted to knot.  Adrien wanted to see her face, and knotting with her now kept him from the sight he most wanted to see.

Both panting, Adrien encouraged her to roll over so they could lay face to face.  They sleepily smiled at each other; hers was a dreamy upward curve of the lips, his was a show of teeth as his mandibles flared outward.  So content, they were. 

Adrien was the first to speak up after their comedown, and he said, “We’ll get through this.”  Viv only nodded, and scooted closer to him so their bodies were pressed against each other once more. 

She could never get enough of his warmth, the feel of his plates against her skin.  She repeated the word describing the feeling that he gave her over and over again in her head, and it never made it seem _real_ , like she wanted it to.  _Home_.  That was what he made her feel, every sensation he’d managed to pull out of her, every comforting sound, every press of plate against flesh.

 _Home_.

“Yeah,” she replied, “I think we will.”

Viv spared a glance over at the clock on her nightstand—2:30 in the morning.  They needed more sleep, as the next day was filled to the brim with appointments and meetings.  They’d managed to line up a starting group of interspecies ambassadors, and tomorrow were some of the first remote meetings of this endeavor.  Most comm networks sprang back to life in the four months since the Crucible fired, so making such assignments became less daunting as the weeks went on.

Once the relay system was functional—seemingly only weeks away—then the real progress could begin, and she and Adrien could finally start their lives together away from the Citadel, on Palaven.  He never failed to make her feel like she was living some dream, which felt good to consider in place of the nightmares that plagued her sleeping moments.

She could live with that dream, and she’d since stopped giving into the thoughts challenging her to come up with a reason why this couldn’t be _her_ dream.  It was, and living it became more important to her by the day. 

They were both excited to get on with the rest of their lives—they’d started hashing out the beginning plans of their bonding ceremony as well, and wanted more than anything to be bound together in such a way.  For all intents and purposes, they already were—but to the eyes of the human governing bodies and the Hierarchy of the turians, their bonding wasn’t yet formal and thus if anything happened to either of them, it would be a mess to ensure that the other was taken care of in the wake of such an untimely parting.

Viv tried not to let such thoughts disturb the peace she felt with Adrien, but some things just couldn’t be helped.  They were together, in body and spirit, but not in the eyes of the law.  The thought made her anxious, but they were forced to wait for political reasons. 

What would it look like if the Primarch of Palaven married a human outside of turian space?  It wouldn’t do any favors to his already tumultuous career, so they were both resigned to bending to the Hierarchy on this one.  Unfortunate circumstance, really.

These considerations always came out of the feelings she held for him, though.  It was such a raw, beautiful thing—her love for this strange turian that walked into her life at just the moment she needed him to.  Viv never thought that they would get any sort of opportunity to chase a life together.

 _Together_. 

She pressed her forehead more firmly to his at the thought and Adrien purred as he returned the gesture.  Viv brought her hand up to his mandible and he flicked a smile into her palm before they both closed their eyes, and let sleep take them once more as they bathed in each other’s warmth, holding each other through their shared afterglow.

Viv had a feeling that the nightmares wouldn’t be coming back tonight, and knew that Adrien would be there through all of them when they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ robinapril


	16. The Start of Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First meetings, getting things moving for the galaxy's fresh start. Shepard doesn't want to see them waste it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this one out. Life is kind of a beast right now, and taking care of my people always comes first. Will be trying my damndest to get on a regular schedule, but I can't really make promises right now. 
> 
> So, have a longer chapter than usual!
> 
> Disclaimer: Mass Effect belongs to BioWare.

The fluorescent lighting in the conference room washed out its inhabitants, glinting off shiny surfaces and enhancing everyone’s flaws as such lighting is apt to do.  Viv sat at the head of the table, Adrien was seated to her right.  Councilors Sparatus and Tevos were there as well, wanting to oversee the first few meetings for the sake of evaluating Viv’s technique when managing the interactions between representatives of races across the galaxy.

 

Comm stations were set up around the table as well, preparing for the representatives who’d received Viv’s nod for the position to dial in.  Viv was tense, but eager to move things along.  She didn’t care much for feeling like Sparatus and Tevos were micromanaging this endeavor, but she saw their point in wanting to observe the first few meetings.  This was an unheard-of effort, after all, but Viv had a hard time grappling with the notion that the Council was only half good at its own job, let alone hers—what business did they have moderating, anyway?

 

At least, for her sake, only Sparatus and Tevos were sitting in.  Shepard had experience working with the both of them—however storied—and being as it was that Parasini and Linron were just ushered in, the in-the-flesh Council decided it best for them to not sit in on these initial meetings, while they worked out the kinks.

 

Perhaps she was stubborn, or maybe she was just done with the galaxy’s bullshit. 

 

She supposed, though, that they’d been handling diplomacy since before she was an inkling on the galactic stage.  She could cut them some slack here, and try to understand while hoping beyond hope that they wouldn’t be the royal pains in the ass that they usually were.

 

Perhaps the war had changed things.  Perhaps not.  There was only one way to find out.

 

“Councilors.” She nodded in respectful greeting.

 

“Ambassador,” Sparatus greeted then turned to Victus.  “Primarch,” he said.

 

Adrien nodded in a similar fashion to Shepard—she’d long since picked up on proper turian greetings, and it seemed second nature to her at this point.  At times, she didn’t even realize she was engaging in communication specific to them, but supposed that having been shacked up with one for four months could make an impression, however small.

 

“We don’t have much time for small talk, I’m afraid.”  Sparatus sounded genuinely regretful at the words, a thrum to his subharmonics that spoke warmth reverberated through the conference room.  “I would very much like for us to catch up, sometime soon while you two are still on the Citadel.”

 

Shepard wasn’t quite sure what to say—she’d never felt she was on the friendliest terms with the councilor, and she was aware of Victus’ issues with the man.  While she hadn’t been privy to the susbharmonics and inflections he’d used with her in the past, she was well aware of them now and couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward in situations where conversation was likely with him.

 

Before Shepard could stew in her musings for too much longer, Victus spoke up and affirmed Sparatus’ invitation.

 

“That would be most welcome,” he said.  “With the progress of the relays, we are expecting to be able to travel back to the Trebia System in no more than two months.  I’m sure we can manage to find some time for a meal and drinks before then, don’t you think, Shepard?”

 

“Huh?”  Her mind was wandering, nerves about the meeting.  Her brain caught up with the rest of the room and she said, “Oh, right.  Social call.  Sure, yeah.  Let’s do it.”

 

Shepard hadn’t meant to be rude, not really.  She was just preoccupied, and while her history with the councilor wasn’t the best, she could stand for dinner with the guy.  For giving her the chance with this effort, it was the least she could do.  She made a mental note to apologize after the meeting concluded. 

 

The war had changed her.  Shepard _never_ apologized.

 

Sparatus thrummed in mild irritation; Adrien knew how much he hated being ignored, but knew better than to scold Shepard.  She was no longer under the Council’s thumb, and it was certainly irritating to them that she’d seemed to perform the Council’s duties better than they’d been able to. 

 

That _had_ to sting, if only a little bit.

 

The turian councilor spared a glance at Shepard, and with an irritated flick of a mandible he averted his gaze to the asari councilor.  “Tevos,” Sparatus started.  “Have our guests called in?”

 

“We’re all accounted for,” she affirmed.  “Shall we start roll call?”

 

As Tevos asked the question, she made eye contact with Shepard—it was her turn to lead.  With that, Shepard started listing off names.

 

“Urdnot Grunt,” Shepard called out, stern and in control.  “Representative of the krogan people and reconstruction efforts on Tuchanka as recommended by Urdnot Wrex and Urdnot Bakara, working to establish a working relationship with the Salarian Union, in conjunction with salarian STG task force units that aided in the construction and detonation of the Crucible during the Reaper War.”

 

“Present.”  With only one word, Grunt sounded grown up, matured.  Shepard’s chest swelled with pride before she moved on to the next. 

 

She was already tired of reading off titles and positions and clan names. 

 

“Admiral Tali’Zorah vas Normandy.” Shepard resumed her professional demeanor, tone formal.  “Representative of the quarian people and one of the admirals responsible for ending the quarian-geth conflict.  Because Legion is no longer with us, we leave it up to you to find a worthy representative of the geth people.  You will assist in maintaining balance between the relationship between organics and synthetics by working together, and will do so by working to establish modern life on Rannoch in tandem.  You are tasked with maintaining this status quo, voluntarily and for the betterment of both the geth and quarian people.”

 

“Present.”  Tali’s accent was a welcome sound.  Having Tali here for this, albeit via comm, calmed her down.  Viv was always better with her crew around.

 

All eyes shifted to her, and she made brief eye contact with Adrien and he gave her a supportive nod and a proud smile.

 

 _She could do this_.

 

“Viv Shepard, present,” she said, still refusing to say her full name despite the formalities.  “Human ambassador to the Hierarchy, in collaboration with Primarch Victus.  Gained support by assisting in curing the krogan genophage. The turians supported human fleets and ground forces in the Reaper War as well as in construction of the Crucible.  Will continue efforts at maintaining positive relationship between our people and governments, and will work toward more collaborative opportunities after rebuilding efforts are successful on Earth and on Palaven.”

 

As Shepard finished her own introduction, she looked around the room at her allies—both those physically present and there via comm—and allowed herself a quick moment of reflection.

 

Tali was radioing in from Virmire.  The team from the Normandy during the final assault against the Reapers was still stranded there, though repairs had long since been completed.  The team had run into some survivors, and the crew alongside those remaining planetside banded together and pooled collective resources to not only repair the ship, but also assist in getting some semblance of day-to-day business in a nearby city. It was a smaller town on the colony, but one that had still sustained prohibitive damage during the war. 

 

Normandy and her crew were biding their time until the relays were online—they were all eager to make themselves useful in the aftermath.

 

Grunt had been working closely with Wrex and Eve on Tuchanka.  After the Reapers fell, it didn’t take long for the ‘Wreavs’ of the world to surface, both within Clan Urdnot and outside of it.  The two had their work cut out for them, and they were already occupied with making a very large family full of little Urdnots.  Disreputable behavior unbecoming of the new direction of the krogan people was an added battle on its own, and Wrex told Shepard at one point that he almost preferred dealing with the Reapers over the likes of them.

 

A small part of Shepard agreed.

 

Grunt, then, had been a natural choice.  He was young, sure, but his first experiences in life and in battle were all in working with a team made up of members of many species.  Such cooperation was all he knew, and with a youthful approach, Grunt would have insight that would be difficult to come by elsewhere.

 

Representatives from the quarians for the geth, the krogan for the salarians, and for the humans and turians had been established, and the first item of business for this first meeting was recommending and discussing potential appointments both for the geth and the salarians, but also the asari—who had fractured relationships repair with most of the galaxy for the Prothean artifact stunt—who needed someone bold at the helm.

 

Since the batarian Hegemony had also been more or less dismantled as a result of the war and the decimation of Khar’shan, both the Council and cross ambassadors were considering aiding in getting their people situated with a new model of government, and choosing a representative to be considered for a formal embassy on the Citadel.

 

Shepard thought it was a long shot, and she wasn’t necessarily eager to play nice with the batarians just yet.

 

She’d lived beyond what happened on Mindoir, but some wounds aren’t so quick to fade.  A working relationship with the batarians would take time to establish after the many hells that members of their species were responsible for putting people through, but it was a worthy effort to attempt moving things in the right direction; they might get there one day.

 

Before calling in or attending, Shepard had sent out an agenda with those items as the first of discussion.  She sat up a little bit straighter and started from the top.

 

“Admiral.” Shepard nodded to Tali.

 

“Oh, Keelah,” she said, dramatically.  “No ‘Admiral.’  You should know better, _Shepard_.”  Tali said her name, voice dripping with mockery.

 

Shepard only laughed, then corrected herself.  “Tali.”

 

Tali only smiled back—not visible through her helmet but her body language said all Shepard needed to know—with a posture that said, ‘mission accomplished.’  Shepard returned the look, and started her rounds.

 

“I realize that you haven’t been back to Rannoch, but from your communications with those stationed there, how is recolonization coming along?  Any roadblocks, problems with the geth?”

 

“Aside from residual damage from the Reaper base, no problems to speak of yet,” Tali answered.  “The geth are far more efficient at construction, and they’re using programs to help boost the immune systems of those planetside.  The last time I talked to Admiral Koris, he wasn’t wearing a mask.  I couldn’t believe it, Shepard.”

 

“That’s…remarkable.”  Shepard couldn’t hide the surprise in her tone, the utter bewilderment.  She’d known the quarians and geth would be working together, but hadn’t considered that the geth’s sophisticated technology, borne from the intellectual depths of the quarian people, would be the gateway for them to exist without their masks, and maybe someday without the envirosuits altogether.

 

She could only hope that the relationships between other peoples would be half as fruitful.

 

“It is.”  Tali’s response held just as much awe, then the young admiral launched into her next round of updates.  “Since I have yet to be back to Rannoch I haven’t been able to see it for myself, but it’s going better than we could have hoped.  Thank you, Shepard.”

 

“No reason to thank me, Tali,” Shepard rebutted.  “You helped make this happen, and I’m glad our Primarch here was able to talk sense into your admirals.  Gods know I didn’t have the patience.”

 

Tali repaid the sentiment with a warm laugh, but then quickly returned to business.  “I know that Legion had gained individuality before he…”

 

Tali didn’t need to finish her thought—the solemn cadence to her voice said it all.  “We’re hoping that someone shows half of the potential that Legion did.  I can’t be there to see for myself, though, and I don’t know how comfortable I am with the leaders of the colonization effort deciding on a representative.  I ask that we wait to make any final decisions until I’ve had a chance to observe any candidates for myself.”

 

“Completely understandable.”  Shepard closed her eyes as she spoke with a nod, her conviction and trust in Tali ringing through the utterance and the gesture.

 

“Thank you.”  Tali returned the nod before she said, “I don’t really have much else to report at this time, but I intend to travel back to Rannoch after we’re able to get the Normandy back to the Citadel.”

 

“I trust you, Tali.”  Shepard said the words with a smile.  “Be sure to tell the rest of the crew that my thoughts are with them, and they better get their asses back here, so we can all celebrate properly soon.”

 

“Of course, Shepard,” Tali confirmed with a smile in her voice.

 

Shepard veered her gaze over to Grunt.

 

“Grunt.”

 

“Shepard!”

 

Shepard laughed, feeling so very proud that she was talking to Grunt in such a setting.  The youngster had grown into the krogan that she knew he could be, and she was happy beyond belief that he had the likes of Wrex and Eve to look up to in her stead.  The kid was in good hands, and more intelligent and weathered than she’d initially given him credit for.  He was not the same krogan who walked out of that tank, but had all the initial spunk and wherewithal that she’d grown to admire in the first place.

 

This was _her_ Grunt, and he sat before his Battlemaster wearing a proud, lopsided, krogan grin.

 

Through her smile she asked, “How are things on Tuchanka, Grunt?”

 

“Been better,” he started.  “Rebel groups springing up, tryin’a make a mess of things.  Not making it any easier for our people wanting to start families after this.  Wrex and Eve are doing their best, but there’s only so much one clan can do.”

 

“I understand,” Shepard said.  “What can we do to help?”

 

“You familiar with Velin Lemina Talbane?” Grunt asked, then elaborated further.  “I know there’s eight extra names somewhere I’m missing, but she’s STG.  Used to be part of the League of One resurgence before the Reapers hit.  Helped Mordin shore up research and resources in the cure project.”

 

“The name rings a bell.”  Shepard was searching for where she’d heard the name before, but was coming up blank.  Maybe Mordin had mentioned her in passing, she thought.  “What of her?”

 

“She’s been keeping tabs on Tuchanka, talking with Wrex and Eve and seeing how her unit can help Clan Urdnot as a start. Think she might be the best bet as a representative, if she’s willin to work with us,” Grunt explained.  “She’s STG, though, hard sayin how much any of our people will trust ‘er, or if she can convince the Union to work with us.  STG’s a start, but I have a feeling we’ll need more from the salarians than that.”

 

Shepard considered the proposition for a moment, before she asked Grunt, “Think we can get her linked up for our next meeting?  Can’t make any promises without assessing the situation for myself.  Former League of One is a hefty gain, but it’s a matter of where their priorities lie in comparison to STG proper, as well as the Union.  If they’re willing to work with all of us, then this could be an absolute boon to the krogan people, the salarians too.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do, Shepard.”  Grunt didn’t sound entirely confident, but Shepard knew it was a foundation, a beginning.  She only hoped that she could aid in facilitating its growth.  “They’re not quick to listen to me because I’m young, but Wrex, Eve, and you have my back.  That’s the best I can hope for until I have a chance to prove myself.”

 

Shepard considered that his youth may be a detriment in some respects, but hoped that his people could see beyond his tank-bred origin, look past his age.  She’d be willing to even further proclaim her faith in Grunt if that’s what it took.  That was a consideration for another time, though.

 

“Aside from lining up a representative between the krogan and salarians, how is reconstruction going?  I realize that Tuchanka wasn’t hit as hard as some of the other homeworlds, but there were still Reaper scouts all over the place.  We never made it back to the planet before everything came to a head, so I never go the chance to see for myself.”

 

“It was pretty bad, Shepard,” Grunt drawled.  “Yeah, there were only scouts, but the Reapers weren’t dumb.  They were stationed where it counted, and we’re still payin’ for it.  As far as Tuchanka is concerned though, there wasn’t much of a homeworld to begin with.  If anything, we can try and see it as a fresh start, see if we can’t get the other clans to work with us too.”

 

“I see.”  That was all Shepard had to say, at first.  She admitted that the newfound articulation that Grunt exhibited was jarring to her.  She never thought he was dumb, but had not expected him to speak so eloquently of Tuchanka, and his optimism was refreshing.  She had all the more reason to trust Grunt with this effort, and looked forward to seeing what he could manage with this potential STG connection—League of One, no less—and if he were able to get more big-name clans to work aside Urdnot.

 

“From your perspective, Grunt,” Shepard began.  “Do you think you’ll need aid from the other races, outside of the salarians?  If you can’t get more of the other clans to work together?”

 

“Hard to say at this point, Shepard,” he replied.  “Not even an option yet, ‘til the relays are back.  We’re doing all we can until then.  Hope we won’t need to call in anyone else.”

 

“Keep us appraised of the situation,” she told him.  “Earth and Palaven were hit hard, so we’re focusing there for now.  Once we have access to both homeworlds, we may be able to provide for others too.  So, don’t hesitate to ask, and please continue chasing this League of One lead.  Overall, great work here, Grunt.  You have a very proud Battlemaster.”

 

If krogan could blush, Shepard was certain that Grunt would have been.  He looked down with a grin, then lifted his large head to meet Shepard’s gaze through the holo and said “Thanks, Shepard.”

 

It was Shepard and Victus’ turn to weigh in, and a new surge of nerves hit her before she could speak.  She was so proud of Tali and Grunt, of what she’d heard so far, that she worried if she could measure up.  Victus sensed her doubt, and hummed encouragingly at her as he reached for her hand under the table.  They laced their fingers together in that comfortable way that used to be strange, and Shepard took a deep breath.

 

“Well.” Shepard hesitated again, attempting to line up the words in her head.  It wasn’t that she had anything particularly controversial to bring to the table, but allying this group to begin with had been a task on its own.  The matters at hand that she needed to discuss were about adding more to a project that she’d already come up with, as well as elaborating on the needs of Earth and Palaven. 

 

She couldn’t help but feel like her plans and intentions were biased, but they needed to be handled either way.

 

“We’re making progress on Earth.”  She exhaled on her words.  “Seeing as how most of the galaxy’s military ended up stranded there, we had a bit of a head start.  We still don’t have all the resources we need, but we’ve cleared out almost all of the wounded from mobile medical centers and transferred them to hospitals on the Citadel, or establishments still in working order planetside.”

 

Victus piped up, “My temporary second in command is still coordinating.  They started with the worst of it and are building outward from there.  There is a lot of destruction, so rebuilding will be slow.  But it’s started, and at the very least there are now some clean streets to use.”  Victus was all Primarch when he spoke, and it gave Shepard an odd pang of lust seeing him so in charge in comparison to her internal fumbling.

 

She drew strength from it, in a way.  She wasn’t the Commander anymore, nor was she the Spectre.  This was a new situation to adapt to, and she often felt her confidence waver.  She and Victus came from similar situations, sure—but he’d adapted to it a hell of a lot better than she had.  Hearing him speak helped her cast some of her doubt aside.

 

“Once the relays are back up,” Shepard started, “we’ll be dividing available reconstruction resources between Earth and Palaven at first.  Palaven was hit almost as hard as Earth was, so I don’t want you to perceive these designations as biased or selfish.”

 

Tali interrupted, “Shepard!”  It was almost a reprimand, then her tone calmed when she resumed.  “The only other planets hit as hard as Earth and Palaven were Thessia and Khar’shan.  The rest of the galaxy has different problems than this, and the quarian people will not for a moment consider this approach as biased.  Don’t be a bosh’tet.”

 

Everyone in the room—including the two councilors—laughed at the insult, and Shepard felt relieved at the mild levity Tali had incited.  She needed that.

 

“Speaking of Thessia.”  Shepard resumed after the laughter died down.  “We are tasked with finding an asari representative.  Due to their actions at the onset of the Reaper war, as well as withholding valuable resources from the war effort, they have fractured relationships with most of the galaxy that are in need of repairing.”

 

Everyone but Shepard and Victus cast glares to Councilor Tevos, and Victus was quick to remedy the sentiment.

 

“Councilor Tevos had nothing to do with withholding the information, and guided us when it mattered after she’d become knowledgeable of the artifact.  If anything, the asari councilor is the only reason we even had a remote chance of pulling through, _and_ with her guidance, were able to terminate Kai Leng and crumble Cerberus.  It’s time to work together, and those responsible know that they did wrong.  We can’t keep that in the backs of our minds as we move forward, and I only hope that asari leadership feels the same way.”

 

 “Thank you, Primarch.”  Tevos’ gratitude was sincere in her voice, in the gentle bow of her head.  Both Shepard and Victus returned the gesture.

 

“It is good that we have you here, Councilor,” said Victus.  “We are very much interested in ensuring a positive and productive relationship between the asari and the rest of the galactic community and would like to discuss potential candidates to work with us, not with one species in particular, but with the group as a whole.”

 

“Do you have anyone yet in mind, Primarch?”  Tevos’ tone said she had ideas of her own, but wanted to hear theirs first.

 

“Three, actually,” Shepard interjected.  Victus gave her an appreciative hum as she spoke up, encouraging her all the while.  “Each come with their drawbacks and advantages, but I think we may be able to figure out an amenable representative.”

 

“Who did you have in mind?”  Tevos took an immediate interest.

 

“All three of these are stretches, for various reasons,” Shepard warned.  “So bear with me, and if we can all agree on someone, we can hopefully convince them to consider our offer.”

 

 _No more stalling_.

 

“Aria T’Loak, Justicar Samara, and Liara T’Soni.” 

 

Shepard tried to maintain all certainty and decorum in her tone, as unlikely of choices as these three were.  Aria’s heart belonged to Omega, Liara was the Shadow Broker, and Samara was a _Justicar_ who lived by a very specific code for a very specific purpose.  All three, though, had unique qualities that would help the face of the asari people in the challenges ahead, and in this uncertain future, it was imperative that people of all races and species branched away from the norm.

 

Times were changing, and attitudes had to follow. 

 

Before providing rationale for her choices, Shepard surveyed the situation as any seasoned commander would.  Grunt looked contemplative, intrigued.  Tali’s body language shifted—Shepard could tell she was deep in thought, having experienced collaborating with all three potentials.  Sparatus was almost unreadable, save for his steepled talons resting on the tabletop.  Tevos, well—her shock was apparent.

 

Victus wore the same proud look he bore moments ago.

 

“T’Loak’s aggressive, determined,” Shepard explained.  “But she’s vigorous, targeted.  Omega is a shithole, let’s not kid ourselves.  But she’s ran that station like her life depended on it for years.  If she can manage to hold that place together, imagine what she might be able to do beyond it.  There’s potential there, it’s just a matter of convincing her to tap into it.”

 

“And what of her reputation?”  Tevos’ tone told Shepard that she wasn’t writing off the idea, but was trying to wrap her head around the proposition and understand the implications. 

 

“She has a reputation for being ruthless, yes.  But she also has a reputation for getting shit _done_.  We could use that, but I do understand and respect your reservations.  Does anyone else have any comments on this one?”

 

“I don’t know, Shepard,” Grunt bellowed.  “She did give you guys everything you needed before I came along, but I don’t have any experience workin’ with ‘er, not like you.  I trust you, though.  You’ve never failed me.”

 

“I appreciate that,” Shepard thanked him.  “Tali?”

 

“I’ll wait until we’ve covered them all,” the quarian said.

 

“Fair enough.”  Shepard tilted her head toward the turian councilor.  “How about you, anything to add?”

 

“It’s an interesting choice,” he said.  “Feel free to deliberate amongst yourselves, but I’ll reserve my thoughts on Aria until I’ve had more time to consider.  Ambassador, you have the floor.”

 

“Thank you, Councilor,” she said, before moving on to the next potential.  “Liara T’Soni.  Brilliant archaeologist, I believe everyone here knows her by another name as well.  Skilled not only on the battlefield, but behind books and screens.  She has strings wrapped around her fingers that nobody knows what the other ends are tied to, and she’s _loyal_.”

 

“To you, maybe.”  Tali chuckled under her breath.

 

Shepard only raised a brow at the admiral before brushing off the comment.  Adrien smirked at her too. 

 

“I don’t even want to try and get into what you mean by _that_.  But, the drawback _of_ asking Liara about this is that she does have another identity, an important one.  Her tasks may not align with our objectives, but if they do—I’m certain she’d be willing to work with us.  I just want to make sure that this doesn’t conflict with her other responsibilities, and that she’d have the time to dedicate to help.  If the stars align, I have no doubt in my mind that she would be an excellent fit once we can get her off Virmire.”

 

“T’Soni has been a loyal friend and associate to Shepard, and was key to winning the war.  I trust Shepard’s judgment.”  Sparatus’ subvocals remained steady as he spoke, showing his confidence in the faith that Shepard had placed in her crew. 

 

“Liara is young, though,” Tevos pointed out.  “It might be difficult for those with more years beyond them to trust in the judgment of someone so few in years.”

 

“That’s fair.”  Shepard was agreeable, and understood that among the asari, Liara was still very young. 

 

“Grunt, I know you haven’t worked too much with Liara, but what are your first impressions?”

 

“I don’t know, Shepard.”  Gruffly, he resumed “Always thought asari acted like they were better than the rest of us anyway.”

 

“You know that’s not true.”  Shepard’s rebuttal sounded like a mother scolding her child, and she may as well have been.  “And that’s not a productive attitude.  If we’re going to make this work, we need to put the past and stereotypes behind us.  And I fully intend on calling anyone out who plans on being unhelpful.”

 

Everyone in the room bristled at Shepard’s reprimand—including the Primarch. 

 

“Ok.” Shepard breathed out the syllables, then said, “How about we table this discussion for next time?  The Justicar is even more of a stretch than Liara or Aria, and we’ve been at this a while.  Don’t want fatigue getting in the way of our better judgment.”  Shepard glared directly at Grunt’s holo at the words. 

 

The krogan visibly shrunk under his Battlemaster’s scrutiny.

 

“Let’s consider these two choices, think on it, and we’ll return to this discussion next time.”

 

The group bid their farewells, until those remaining were only the physically present. 

 

“Councilors.”

 

“Primarch,” Sparatus answered. 

 

“Ambassador,” Tevos chimed in.  “I think this was…productive.  It’s difficult, though, with everyone still so scattered.”

 

“That’s going to be an issue for a while, but we’ll unfortunately have to make do for now.”  Shepard still sounded confident, if not a bit tired.  “But I think we’re going places with this.”

 

“I understand the need to work together.”  Tevos statement had an impending question at the end, and predictably, she asked, “What do you see as your end goal?”

 

“Well,” Shepard started.  “I’m hoping for the Council itself to expand.” The councilors both looked at her as if they knew this was coming.  “We can prove that we can all work together, maintain and build on what we’ve already accomplished.  Once we can all prove ourselves, I think it’s time for the Council to reach out to the other species.”

 

Neither councilor appeared surprised at the admission.

 

“I hope to one day share your optimism, Ambassador.”  Sparatus maintained all of his usual propriety. 

 

“I do have another appointment to attend, my apologies but I must excuse myself.” 

 

Tevos hurriedly left the conference room, leaving only the Ambassador, the Primarch, and the Councilor.  Shepard was the first to break through the somewhat awkward silence that descended.

 

“Councilor, I wanted to apologize.”  Shepard looked over to him and he flicked a mandible, a silent gesture telling her to continue.  “I was a little out of it at the start of the meeting, nerves and what have you.  When did you want to get that drink?  Catch up?”

 

“I understand your nerves, Shepard.”  The Councilor’s rumbling tone was meant to be reassuring—Adrien used that on her all the time.  “No reason to apologize.  And yes, I actually have a free block of time tomorrow evening.  Seven PM?  I know the _perfect_ place.  I’ll send you the details.”

 

Shepard spared a somewhat confused glance to Victus, and he gave her a look that said _later_ , and they both bid Sparatus goodbye.

 

The Ambassador and the Primarch left the conference room, arm in arm, and Shepard couldn’t help the small upcurve that swept across her lips.

 

She grinned to herself as they both wordlessly left, proud that diplomacy hadn’t broken her yet.  Viv felt invincible with Adrien by her side through it all, and she could only hope that his confidence would continue to inspire her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna


	17. Adventurous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viv gets another lesson in turian social behavior. Twist ending: Sparatus has a sense of humor!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters owned by bioware.
> 
> \---  
> I am absolutely loving exploring the Shictus sexual dynamic through all parts of their lives, and it's been just a really great experience to write. I also think older, experienced turians are super fascinating so I couldn't help myself with bringing our favorite turian councilor into the fold. 
> 
> hope you all dig where i'm going with this, and get ready for a whole lotta yum coming up after this chapter >:)

Viv was seated against the headboard, legs angled upward to support her notebook as she wrote.  Before the war’s end, she’d made a pact with herself to get back to writing, get back to what made her feel whole.  She was keeping that promise, and in the evenings when she would wait for Adrien to get back to their apartment, she took every opportunity to frantically scribble down words.

 

It was relaxing, but simultaneously taxing and, even at times, incredibly frustrating.  It was an exercise in patience, though—and an exercise she dearly needed.

 

She heard the front door lock disengage and her attention was immediately diverted from her work in progress to the turian footsteps that followed the chime.  Viv smiled to herself as she always did when he got home—Adrien, even months into their relationship, still gave her butterflies akin to those of first love, and she didn’t think the feeling would subside any time soon.

 

“Hey, you,” she called out from their bedroom.

 

“How was your day?” He asked. Viv could hear the smile in his voice, taking such pleasure in something so wholly domestic.

 

“Bit of this, bit of that,” she started.  “Getting the next agenda put together, too much thinking.  The usual.”

 

She heard him hum and put his things away downstairs, before the familiar patter of bare, taloned toes crept nearer before she found him in a casual stance in the doorway, leaning against the frame. 

 

He all but devoured her with his eyes before saying another word—Viv _did_ have a habit of wearing very little when given the choice, and this particular evening she hadn’t bothered with bottoms, and wore only her tattered N7 tank top and boy-short underwear.

 

This woman would be the death of him.

 

“How about you?” Viv asked him, “Primarchly duties still a pain in the ass?”

 

“Actually, steadily getting better.”  He was still eyeing her up and down, appearing to be holding something back that he was meaning to ask her.  Viv dropped her notebook and eliminated the distraction, averting her eyes and focusing her mind on her partner before her.

 

“And?”  She goaded him on, trying to eke out whatever it was he was holding back.

 

“And…” he stalled, which only piqued Viv’s interest further.  “I had a meeting with Councilor Sparatus today, going over the needs of turian space right now, and something uh… _came up_.”

 

“Oh?” 

 

“Oh, indeed.”  His subharmonics took on a curious sounding purr, one that was vaguely familiar but held an unfamiliar twang.  Desire was there, sure, but there was something else that he wasn’t telling her, something he was _afraid_ to tell her. 

 

She didn’t want Adrien to be afraid of telling her anything, so she waved him over to the bed and as it dipped with his weight she shifted closer to him and reached for his hand.  “Out with it,” she said.

 

His mandibles dropped from the side of his face as he tilted his head to make eye contact with Viv.  He looked lost, like something was truly bothering him that he couldn’t find the words for.  A pang of concern shot up Viv’s spine before she asked, “Is everything okay?”

 

“Spirits, yes.”  He was quick to respond, hoping to abate her concern.  “Just…more interspecies awkwardness, I’m afraid.”

 

“Yeah?”  She paused, briefly.  “You can tell me anything, you know.  You don’t have to hold back because you’re afraid I might think something’s strange.  I thought we’d moved past that by now.”

 

“I know, I know it’s just…”  Adrien faltered on his words, unsure in that moment as to how to speak with the eloquence of a Primarch, while trying to articulate concepts in turian relationships that might seem strange to humans.  She’d already done so much to ensure he was comfortable with her, embracing turian quirks when there were so few human oddities that he’d been asked to adjust to.

 

He couldn’t help feeling that things were a little one-sided, and he didn’t want to add to that.  Viv had already been more than accommodating, and he feared making her second guess their relationship, for any reason.

 

“Adrien.”  She reached up and rested her hand over a mandible, and he flicked it out into her palm in response.  “I know we’ve had to adjust to a lot, and I want to.  I wanted different, and I got you.  Whatever you need to say, just say it.  I’m here, and my mind is always open to you.”

 

He didn’t say anything at first, just nodded as he pulled her into his lap.

 

“Sparatus,” Adrien started, somewhat uncertainly.  “He’s…interested.”

 

“In me?  Yeah, I’ve known that for a while, dear.”  She laughed as she locked her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his.  “No surprise there.  Don’t think for a second that I didn’t notice that little display when we helped the Council during the Cerberus coup.  I’m not that dense.”

 

Adrien rumbled his quiet laughter at her, and Viv felt the delicate thrum against her chest, pressed up against his keel as she was.

 

“You’re correct, partly.”  Adrien smiled through his words, lovingly staring into the amethyst depths of her gaze.  “I brought it up to him, a while back actually.”

 

“Oh, gods.”  The closed her eyes tightly, then opened them back up and raised a brow at her turian.  “Dare I ask how that conversation went?”

 

“Admittedly, he was disappointed to learn of _us_.  He thought you might come around one day.”

 

“Seriously?  I don’t know, Adrien—those air quotes _really_ cranked my gears back then.  I think you might have some competition.”

 

“If it’s the air quotes you’re after, why didn’t you just say so?”  The words were a playful rumble, helping the both of them smile through the conversation.

 

“We’re skirting the topic again,” Viv said.  “So he was interested, _is_ interested in me, still?  Or something?”

 

“ _Us_.”

 

“What do you mean, us… _oh_.”  She paused, then repeated.  “OH.”

 

“Hmm.”  Adrien’s utterance was a confirmation—Sparatus wanted _them_. 

 

Viv wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information, so she asked, “Is that… _normal_?  Are you telling me this because… _you’re_ interested, too?”

 

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

 

“I mean…no, but…”  She stalled, thinking of how she wanted the next words to come out.  “I uh…didn’t know you swung that way.”

 

“Most turians do,” he explained. “But I understand if this is something out of your comfort zone, I didn’t mean…”

 

She shushed him with a finger to his mouth plates, considering.  Viv just needed him to stop talking, just for a moment, so she could gather her thoughts.

 

He pulled her wrist down from his face, though, and said “You will _always_ be enough for me, you know that?”  Adrien’s words were earnest.  “I just thought this could be something we could explore together, and it could be a one-time thing, or something we continue.  It’s up to you.”

 

Viv just looked at him sideways, still in her thoughts but considering his words.  If this was something he wanted, she wasn’t entirely opposed.  Plus, there weren’t many in the galaxy who could say they’d bedded the two most powerful turians in the Milky Way, at the same time no less.  The thought went straight to her groin, and Adrien must have smelled her arousal as he purred and squinted his eyes at her in a sultry expression of evaluation.

 

He wrapped his hands around her waist, then asked her, “What are you thinking?”

 

“I’m thinking,” she breathed, “that this is something that’s important to you, and I can’t help but be a little curious about what it’d be like to have two turians at once.”  She searched his face up and down, looking for something, anything.

 

“You mean that?”  Adrien asked the question as his thumbs found the protrusions of her hip bones that he so adored; she rocked her pelvis against him in response.

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

Growling and with a graceful strength, Adrien flipped them, so she lay on her back and his clothed hips came to rest between her thighs.

 

“So why Sparatus?” she asked, rolling her hips against his.  “Never seemed like you particularly got along.”

 

Adrien was distracted, clearly, and rumbled at the grinding between his legs, trying to think up a coherent answer.  He nipped her cheek playfully before replying.  “Despite our differences, he means well.  And, given our positions on the galactic stage, there are few others who would be socially acceptable to engage in bedsport with, my love.”

 

“So it has more to do with his position than actually being attracted to him?”  Viv brought a hand underneath his fringe, gently kneading the soft skin there that drove him mad.

 

“You don’t find him attractive?”  Surprise was evident in his question—Sparatus was a catch by turian standards.

 

“It’s not that,” she said, “I know he’s good looking.  But he’s kind of a dick, you know?”

 

Adrien laughed then said, “If I remember correctly, he _was_ the one who told you to seek out the Primarch.”  He was teasing her, but there was a stark truth to his words.

 

 _Shit_.  He was right.

 

Viv’s mouth flew agape before she sighed in defeat, “Touché.”

 

“Even still,” Adrien began in affirmation, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but I’m interested if you are.  Politics can’t be _all_ stiff meetings—may as well have some fun while we’re at it.”

 

“You drive a hard bargain, turian.”  Viv nuzzled against the side of his face then whispered in his ear, “I’m in.”

 

\---

 

 

Viv had lost some of her bulk after the war, not needing to keep up the vigorous fitness regimen that she had before.  She still took care of herself, ensured she stayed in shape—but, understandably, she was gradually becoming smaller, she looked frailer. 

 

There was a new elegance to the way she carried herself though.  The soldier still shone through, but she was less of an unrelenting force and more a strong, graceful creature who carefully chose her prey.

 

Adrien didn’t think she could be any more beautiful than she already was, but when she walked out of their bedroom wearing that little red thing with the small slivers of her waist showing through black mesh on the sides, he couldn’t help the drop of his mandibles and the hot glare he gave her.

 

She always took his breath away, and even with all his experience and escapades, he felt like a fledgling in front of her—often.  He was helpless, a goner. 

 

Viv grinned at him, taking in his appraisal.  She approached and extended her arm, asking coyly, “Shall we?”

 

Adrien linked arms with her, leaning down to nuzzle her temple and tell her once more how incredible she truly was, both aloud and subharmonically.  He wanted to leave no trace of doubt of his feelings for and toward her, knowing how fickle some humans could be when embarking on the adventure such as this.

 

He wanted to make sure that Viv knew she had absolutely nothing to worry about, and that this was for them _both_ —they were in it together.

 

They left their apartment and hailed a skycar, both battle-ready for what lay ahead.

 

\---

 

They arrived at the restaurant—remarkably, the same fusion joint where Viv and Adrien shared their first date on the Citadel.  She wondered if Adrien had told Sparatus about it, but didn’t dwell on the matter, only smiling to herself at the gesture Sparatus made at ensuring their collective comfort.

 

“Primarch,” the hostess greeted.  “Ambassador.  The Councilor has reserved one of our private rooms.  Right this way.”

 

Adrien and Viv followed, garnering looks from the restaurant’s patrons.  Both looked stately, in their element—the two may not be soldiers any longer, but their presence still commanded any room. 

 

They entered the private accommodations, red drapery elegantly hung from the sides of the walls with dim lighting igniting the space with a crimson glow.  Sparatus was seated at the table with a drink in front of him and a datapad in hand; candlelight reflected off the black lacquer of the tabletop. 

 

Viv guessed that he wasn’t one to leave work behind for too long, no matter the circumstance. 

 

As the two walked in, Sparatus sat the datapad down and stood from his seat, meeting the Primarch and Ambassador in swift, graceful steps.  “Adrien,” the older turian greeted with a dip of his brow, notably using name rather than title.  “Gennevieve,” he greeted her.

 

“Just Viv, please.”  She extended her hand to shake his in human greeting.  Viv hated the sound of her full name, but appreciated his effort regardless. 

 

“Not trying to be rude, but I don’t think I’ve ever learned your first name.  What should I call you in, uh…social situations?”

 

He laughed, lowly before saying “Sparatus is actually my first name.  Upon joining the Council, all members abandon clan or family names.  Helps prevent the impression of bias,” he explained.  “But in truth, we never forget where we come from.”

 

“Learn something new every day.”  Viv motioned back behind Sparatus to the table, urging the trio to sit.  “I don’t know about you two, but I’m ready for a drink.”

 

“Right.”  It was the most nervous Viv ever heard the turian councilor sound, and she couldn’t help the thrill that crept up her spine at knowing the cause of his trepidation.

 

They gave the hostess their drink orders and as she turned and left the room, Sparatus was the first to speak.

 

“I’d like to keep business to a minimum this evening, but before we move things along I wanted to commend you for the first meeting with your ambassadors.”  Sparatus sounded sincere, and Viv wasn’t sure how she felt about the warmth that came over her face at his praise.

 

“Thank you, Sparatus.”  She decided a ‘thanks’ was the best way to react in the moment.  “It’s not going to be easy, but I think it’s off to a great start.  The war taught me a lot.”

 

“It shows.”  The councilor positively rumbled at her, display unbidden.  Adrien smirked, appreciating Viv’s effect on the man.  “And know that at least myself and Councilor Tevos are willing to help in whatever way we can.  We would like to bring the other two into the fold after they’ve had the chance to get acquainted with life on the Citadel, but I understand you have a _history_ with Councilor Linron.”

 

“On that note…” Viv pivoted to avoid discussing the former Dalatrass, “Let’s call that good on the business talk for the evening.”

“Fair enough.”  Sparatus spared a small grin at his concession.

 

Adrien had been remarkably quiet since their arrival, drinks in hand however, the Primarch loosened up.  Viv felt like he was studying she and the Councilor’s dynamic, appraising the situation in his own way.

 

When Sparatus would stumble over his words and his subharmonics would fluctuate seemingly out of the man’s control, Adrien’s mandibles would slightly flare out, fringe perking up.  Perhaps he was testing his own limits, in a way—this world was new for them both.

 

Blowing off steam among soldiers was one thing, but this was just— _different_ , uncharted territory.  These interactions weren’t fleeting or desperate; they were a part of working together, of being comfortable with each other.  Viv learned that this was the case for turians, strange as it was to her—she was still willing to accept it.

 

Politics meant tense situations, and understanding what made your associates tick was just another line in the job description. 

 

If Viv thought turians were strange before, there was no remaining doubt in her mind.  But she _loved_ it, and couldn’t be more grateful for the life she’d managed to walk into.  She was still navigating, learning her way—but each day grew better than the last, despite reconstruction and the challenges of keeping the species of the galaxy working together.

 

After the three had sufficiently imbibed enough to loosen the mood across each of them, the group found a friendly and comfortable banter.  Adrien no longer saw the Councilor as a threat, but as someone who admired both he and Viv.  Sparatus, Adrien knew, was worthy of admiration himself despite their tumultuous interactions in the past.

 

Sparatus could be a difficult man to work with, but he was well-intentioned and worthy of trust. His actions during the war certainly proved that.

 

They took their time getting familiar, outside of a professional capacity.  Adrien and Viv learned that Sparatus had lost both his mate and mistress during the war, and that his ‘mistress’ was just that, but only in name.  The woman was his mate’s best friend, and someone who was there for them both when they couldn’t be for each other.

 

Both losses weighed hard on the turian, and Adrien and Viv related on a level they wished they couldn’t.  The war had been hard on everyone, despite position or station in life.  It was still hard, navigating a galaxy drowning in the aftermath.

 

Viv found a kindred spirit in the Councilor.  He’d come from modest beginnings and worked his way up the Hierarchy, though he never wanted to become a council member.  Viv never wanted to be the face of humanity, and Adrien never dreamed of being a Primarch. 

 

Considering how her working relationship with Sparatus started when this whole mess began, Viv never thought that she’d be able to relate to him on the level that she was now.  They were more alike than she wanted to admit, and a small part of her even felt guilty at how much snark she threw back at him during their humble beginnings.

 

She was just drunk enough to apologize, and as a minute silence settled over them, she took a sip of her drink and said, “Since we’re getting all touchy feely here…”  There was a mild slur to her words, enough to indicate that she was thoroughly enjoying herself, but still had her wits about her.  “…I’m sorry for how I acted when this all started.  You were just doing your job, and I was kind of a stubborn ass.  So, sorry about that.”

 

Viv averted her eyes away from Sparatus’ and down to her half-empty glass and food-cleared plate to the side.  A three-fingered hand that wasn’t Adrien’s came into view and taloned fingers gently wrapped around her wrist, drawing her attention to Sparatus.

 

“And you were just doing yours.”  The Councilor’s voice was all sincerity, the echo of his subharmonics familiar in that way.  “I was a bit of an ‘ass’ too.”  Sparatus gestured his trademark air quotes with his free hand and both Viv and Adrien exploded into laughter, Sparatus joining in as well.

 

The three finished their drinks with more amicable conversation, simply enjoying each other’s company.  It was nice getting to know Sparatus in a social capacity.  He still had a dignified air about him, but he was smart, and kind, and funny.  Viv wasn’t sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this.  The three got along, as if their storied past had no impact on the present, and Viv was grateful for that.

 

Their glasses were empty, and they declined the waitress’ offer for refills. They were forced to address the awkward quiet that developed between them.  Viv, ever the one to charge ahead, asked “Well, Sparatus.  Your place or ours?”

 

He was taken aback by her bluntness but only for a moment, then replied with a devious smile, “Your place is closer.”

 

Adrien called a skycar on his omni-tool while Sparatus handled the bill.  Once settled, the three left the restaurant and before entering the skycar that awaited the trio, Adrien rumbled quietly in what turned out to be an invitation, an offer for Sparatus to join their proximity.  The councilor leaned down and scented Viv after approaching them, reacting with a warm purr.  Adrien looked at him approvingly, trilling and flicking a mandible at the two of them before they piled in and settled close for the short ride back to their apartment.

 

Adrien wrapped his arm around Viv’s waist and Sparatus gripped her thigh; warmth rushed over her, and suddenly it occurred to her that the skycar wasn’t moving nearly fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna


	18. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viv and Adrien bring a certain turian councilor home. Smut ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW
> 
> Characters owned by BioWare

Adrien disengaged the lock to their Citadel apartment, Viv and Sparatus following him as he crossed the threshold.  Viv slid off her heels, feet rejoicing at removing the constrictions as the two turians walked further inside. 

“Anyone want another drink?”  She slid her shoes into the storage compartment adjacent the door, then sat her little black clutch on top of the shelving unit above it.

Her turian already beat her to it though and had walked over to the bar, three glasses already lined up.  “Makers, neat?”  He guessed, knowing Viv all too well.  “You got it,” she confirmed.

When she turned the corner after putting away her personal effects, the trio’s drinks were ready, and Adrien stood behind the bar.  Sparatus was posted in front of him, and Viv took her seat next to the turian councilor. 

“Well…” Viv grabbed her glass and raised it, prompting her companions to join her in a toast.  “To trying new things.”  The three shared a snort of quick laughter before clinking glasses and sipping their drinks.

Adrien seemed so relaxed, in his element.  Viv wondered if he and Sparatus already shared some sort of history, so in the spirit of transparency she decided on asking outright.

“So, you two go back or something?”  She motioned between the two turians and Adrien promptly nodded, though Sparatus spoke up.

“First Contact War.”  The councilor took a sip and continued, “Stationed aboard the _Sanguis_.”  The turians shared a glance and a mandible flicker—perhaps recalling fond memories of serving together—Viv knew she needed to dig into _that_ later, but it was a conversation for another time. 

“No hard feelings, of course.”  He gestured toward Viv, the only human in the room.

“I’d like to think I’ve made it pretty clear that I don’t harbor any resentment.”  Viv reached over the bar and took Adrien’s hand, reiterating her point and smiling all the while.  He purred at her in return, fixing her with a fond gaze.  Both averted their eyes from each other and studied Sparatus, and Adrien said “I never did get to properly thank you for sending the Commander to us in our time of need.  I fear this war would have had a far different outcome had you not intervened.”

Sparatus tilted his crest down in acknowledgment before Adrien spoke again, “I share my gratitude for other reasons as well…” He spared a glance at Viv before resuming, “…but that aside—your actions pushed the galaxy to victory rather than defeat, and I will not soon forget.”

“I was simply performing my duty, Primarch,” he said.  “And a certain former Alliance Commander tended to be _very_ persuasive.”

“Yeah, well…” Viv took another sip, “Someone’s gotta try to get through to bullheaded turians.  Might as well be me.”

The three shared another brief laugh, taking pulls from their drinks, and Sparatus fixed Viv with a hot gaze that she’d learned only meant one thing.  Bright green embers bored into her own; the two were sizing each other up and Adrien only smirked as he watched them watch each other.

“Oh, this evening is going to be just _fantastic_.” 

Positively filthy-sounding subharmonics filtered through his gravelly voice.  He rumbled suggestively at Sparatus and Adrien tilted his head and twitched a mandible in Viv’s direction.  She was met, then, by the predatory stares of both turians who had all but forgotten they had drinks in front of them.

 _Uh oh_.

Sparatus rumbled low in his throat as he looked away from Adrien and back at Viv and fixing her with an expression as if asking permission but not waiting for it, he gripped her waist firmly.  She closed her eyes and in her distracted state didn’t hear Adrien approaching from behind the bar. She shuddered when she felt his talons creep up her neck and through her hairline to toy with her scalp.

Adrien gripped a large swath of her hair, tilting her head away from him so he had room to run his rough tongue over her neck.  The resulting gasp had Sparatus growling louder and his other hand came to rest insistently at her thigh just below the hem of her dress, gently pulling her leg toward him to open her up more.

Viv’s next words were nothing but a breath on the air, “Upstairs?”  It was all she could manage to huff out.

Both males inhaled deeply before rumbling their agreement.  She took Adrien’s hand and Sparatus took her other, and they led the turian councilor to their bedroom.

It took no time at all once the three entered their room for both turians to be on Viv—Adrien moved in front of her, tracing her collarbone with the very tip of a talon as his other hand meandered down to where her ribcage met her middle.  Sparatus was behind her, both hands at her shoulders and running down the backs of her arms.  Goosebumps pebbled over her skin, and Sparatus observed their appearance with intrigue.

The councilor rested one hand right of the small of her back as the other traveled up the center to grab the zipper and draw it down until he was able to slide the red fabric off and over her shoulders.  The dress clung around the swell of her hips and Adrien ran his fingers across the top of the barrier of fabric, taking his time—not yet baring her fully.

Viv grinned up at him, meeting his eyes with her half-lidded ones.  Adrien leaned down and rested his brow against hers and asked once more, “You’re sure?”

She only nodded in assent and planted a soft, warm kiss to his less pliable lips and his mandibles flared into _her_ smile.  Viv brought her hands to his chest and felt more than heard the sounds spilling forth, and those vibrations told her all she needed to know.

“You’ll finish removing her dress,” Adrien ordered, gaze snapping to Sparatus. The other turian didn’t hesitate.  He dropped down to one knee and pulled the bunched-up dress over Viv’s hips until it pooled at the floor.  Sparatus ran his hands back over her legs, trailing upward until he met the firm expanse of her rear.  He paused and appreciated her ass, talons gripping at her through the fabric, sliding over her black silk undershorts.

Unprecedented heat jumped to her core and her turians didn’t miss a thing.  As Viv felt her arousal reach new heights—and neither of them had even toyed with her _there_ yet—she felt the air sizzle with reverberating subharmonics that she couldn’t understand; she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. 

Hearing them both communicating to each other in a language she could never know turned her on more than she wanted to admit.  Their sounds were carnal and through every point of contact their rumbles and growls seeped through her skin and into her very being. 

She brought one hand up to Adrien’s cowl as the other reached to run deft fingertips over Sparatus’ fringe.  He leaned into her touch and rested his elegantly painted cheek against her hip, inhaling deeply as he slowly closed and opened his eyes.

When his gaze met hers again, he looked positively _drunk_.  It was a look she never expected to see on him. She looked down and met his eyes, grinning ear to ear in satisfaction at seeing him so relaxed.  Adrien interrupted their moment by quietly humming, urging Sparatus on to fulfill his earlier order. 

The councilor twitched his left mandible at him, making eye contact with Adrien. He ran careful talons over the top of Viv’s panties until they hooked at the sides.  The fabric glided down her legs and she kicked them away from her feet.  She’d calculated a very real possibility of tripping over them, so thought it best to eliminate the risk.

Adrien rumbled in encouragement as Sparatus stood up.  The councilor took his time though, exploring every inch of skin he could as he made his way up to the clasps at her back.  As if well-practiced, Sparatus relieved Viv of her bra with ease.  She couldn’t help but look to him with a raised eyebrow; he offered a leer in return.

Viv huffed a breathy laugh and—now completely nude and sandwiched between two fully-clothed turians—the reality of her situation took over.  Her heart thudded as unrelenting lust coursed through her veins, allowing herself to just give in and enjoy the ride.

Sparatus reached around over her shoulder, talons trailing down to pinch at her nipple.  She gave a shallow gasp, and Adrien’s voice rumbled down at her as he gripped a large hand around the side of her neck, “I will have her first.”  He maintained eye contact with Viv at the words, then peered over her head at Sparatus and said, “But you will make sure she’s ready.”

Viv imagined her face was beet red by now, blushing fiercely at watching Adrien command the higher-ranking turian—orders pertaining to _her_.  It was a heady thing, watching him deliver his demands, and even more so when Sparatus didn’t hesitate or question a thing.

Adrien motioned toward their bed with a tip of his head and Sparatus wrapped his hands around Viv’s waist, pulling her along with him.  Approving sounds were directed at them by Adrien, who remained where he stood as he watched Sparatus situate his mate on the bed with her legs draped off over the side.  Her thighs spread with the encouragement of Sparatus’ hands urging them apart.

Adrien only stared, and began undoing the clasps of his tunic as he growled at the sight of his mate spread open before a higher-ranking turian than himself.  He felt as if he were tempting fate, in some strange way, and relished in it—knowing that no matter what, Viv was his and he was hers.

As he grabbed at the fastenings on his clothes, Adrien watched Sparatus nip and lick his way up Viv’s thigh, stopping to mouth at the crease of her leg next to her sex; he did the same thing to the other side, maddeningly slow, before nipping at her mons in even more intense, frustrating teasing.

She felt Sparatus’ mandibles rub up against either side next to her slick folds, teasing her more before flicking is tongue out to lightly lap at her clit.  He applied barely any pressure, and only swirled over her swollen nub with short, light strokes of his tongue.  It was enough for her to feel him there, but faint enough as to only rile her up more.

Resting his arm over her lower abdomen to hold Viv in place, Sparatus started slowly applying more pressure and was rewarded with a symphony of breathy moans and sharp gasps from Viv as his tongue dipped in and out of her slit, then back up to her pearl.  She looked over his fringe to spot Adrien, disrobed and plates rapidly spreading as he watched the councilor lave and tease his way around Viv’s cunt.

The smell of her arousal enveloped him like a humid cloud; his pupils flared and retracted as he reached down and started stroking his slit.  It took only a few sharp cries from Viv before Adrien’s length was fully unsheathed.  He approached Sparatus and, without preamble, gripped his fringe in his talons and yanked his head away from Viv’s wanting cunt.

“My turn.” Adrien growled out the words directly into Sparatus’ auditory canal.  The councilor trilled in agreement and affectionally nipped at her leg before leaving the heaven between her thighs.  Viv flashed Sparatus a kind smile and reached for his hand before he walked away, giving it a reassuring squeeze.  His mandibles flared into a fond smile in return, and their exchange seemed to make Adrien exceedingly happy because once Sparatus was seated in a chair off to the side, he didn’t wait to drape himself over Viv, nuzzling and purring into her neck.

“I want you to look at him while you ride me.”  Adrien’s voice was whispered thunder in her ear, his breath heating the damp skin of her neck.  After regaining some sense of urgency, Viv gripped Adrien’s waist with her thighs and in a show of uncanny determination, reversed their positions.  She turned so her back was to his face, her heat resting against his chest.  Dipping down to take the head of his slick length into her mouth, she deliberately looked over to Sparatus with a lascivious grin.

He only shook his head at her, rumbling all the while.

She licked Adrien from tapered tip to his thick base, then back again, stopping only to swirl her tongue over the head.  Looking over her shoulder back at Adrien she said through huffs of breath, “Our councilor is overdressed, don’t you think?”

Rumbling his agreement, Adrien looked over to Sparatus and ordered, “You heard the lady.  She wants to see you.  _All_ of you.”

Never ceasing his stare, Sparatus slowly undid the clasps on his clothes while Viv continued to tease Adrien’s cock with her tongue, occasionally running her lips softly over his sensitive underside.  She used the hand that wasn’t supporting her to stroke her turian, trying and failing to wrap her fingers around his thickest spot.

Stopping her ministrations, she looked back over her shoulder to witness the blissful peace across Adrien’s features as she toyed with him.  Viv scooted her pelvis closer to her prize, watching Sparatus free himself from the confines of his pants, length already springing free. 

“Touch yourself.”  This time, the order came from Viv—and still, Sparatus gave no pause and obeyed.

Satisfied with the response she got from the councilor, Viv lifted her hips and caught Adrien’s tip at her threshold.  She didn’t slide down though, and only rotated her pelvis to draw some of her arousal over his already lubricated member, sighing as she tilted forward and dragged his length through her folds.

She felt her turian growl and smiled to herself, looking back over to Sparatus as if in signal telling him to get ready for the show.  Viv let her eyes drift closed as she lifted her hips, dripping cunt hovering over Adrien’s throbbing length and slowly, agonizingly, she let the tip of him into her slick embrace. 

Adrien threw his head back as far as he could without creating discomfort for himself due to his fringe, purring as Viv continued to sink onto him.  He wrapped his talons around her waist, gripping her tightly and lifted his hips with intent until they were flush with hers.

Exhaling slowly, Viv let herself adjust around her mate as she leaned forward and gripped the tops of his thighs for leverage.  Adrien’s talons lightly cut into her, drawing out a wanton moan from the pleasure-pains wracking her body. 

After steeling herself some, Viv lifted and lowered herself on Adrien’s cock while staring intently at Sparatus, whose mandibles were slack at the sides of his face while he lazily stroked himself and watched.  Adrien looked over at him too, trilling in approval at the councilor keeping to his orders.

Incentivized, Adrien moved a hand down to grip at her hipbone and the other neared the nub above her opening that he knew would turn her into a moaning, stumbling mess.  He wanted to make Viv come apart on him for Sparatus to see, so he stroked the pad of a finger over her clit in time with his sharp thrusts.  Every lunge forward of his hips had Viv shuddering around him—he hit her g-spot at every deep, upward movement and she was soon struggling to keep herself upright.

Adrien noticed her struggle, calling Sparatus over with a simple request: _hold her still_.

He kneeled onto the bed in the space next to where Viv and Adrien were writhing against each other.  Sparatus’ hand found the back of her head, and he yanked on her hair until her back was ramrod straight.  With his other hand, slick from his own arousal, he gripped the side of her neck and let one of his fingers snake up to her lips.  She let her tongue sneak out, distractedly wrapping at one of his talons until he pushed his finger into her mouth and she sucked.

He didn’t remove his finger when she started to moan and stiffen up even more, and instead opted to thrust it in and out, breaking up her moans with obscene sounds of attempted suction coming from her mouth.  Adrien had since quickened his pace—she was locked in, at his mercy, and he pounded into her with abandon as he deftly stroked her clit.  

Viv’s entire body tensed, and with one, two, three more coordinated strokes and thrusts, she came apart around Adrien’s cock and his own release spilled forth.  Heat crashed against her inner walls, as they pulsed and clamped down around the stiff length within her. 

She felt Adrien’s base starting to expand, and he pulled out before he could be tempted to knot with her—that act was on a level of intimacy that neither of them wanted to share with another at this point in their lives.  Tying together was something between them and only them, and they both wanted to keep it that way.

Light trickles of warmth descended from Viv’s wet heat, thighs growing slick with she and Adrien’s combined fluids. She rolled off to the side of Adrien to catch her breath, find a brief reprieve.

Adrien only allowed her a few moments though, before thrumming encouragement at her.  “Are you ready to show our councilor what he’s missing?”

She nodded enthusiastically at him, smiling through her panting inhales and exhales.  Adrien rolled over her and reached into one of the nightstands and pulled out a tube of lubricant.

“It’s your turn to return the favor, darling.”  Adrien’s words were affectionate, and before Viv put the pieces together, Adrien spoke up and finished explaining his task.  “You’ll make sure he’s ready for me.”

She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, anticipation at something so new.  Sparatus slid over to Viv’s other side, reaching over and gripping at Adrien’s hips, effectively trapping her between the two males.  She lifted a hand, she gently prodding at the soft skin under Adrien’s fringe to elicit soothing purrs from him.  She shifted over to do the same for Sparatus and his eyes fluttered closed, giving in fully to Viv’s ministrations.

She felt accomplished, and redirected her attention to her partner’s orders as Sparatus opened his green eyes to meet hers.  Viv squeezed a generous amount of lube into her hand and made a show of first licking Sparatus’ neck before trailing her tongue down the side of his cowl, nipping fruitlessly at his keel.  Without needing any further encouragement, Sparatus rumbled at her and moved to his side, back facing Viv.

With her free hand she caressed his waist with her fingertips, ghosting over him in much the same way he’d done earlier with his tongue.

 _Payback’s a bitch_.

He caught on to what she was doing and growled, eliciting a sharp trill of laughter from Adrien.  The Primarch knew his mate well, and could pick up on her teasing even when she was torturing someone else.

 _Spirits, he loved this woman_.

After giving Sparatus a taste of his own medicine, she relented and warmed the lube between her hands before rubbing it in and around his opening.  His thrumming grew louder, and Adrien watched her ready the man as he lovingly ran talons through her hair.  Viv tilted her head over to plant a kiss to the inside of Adrien’s wrist and Sparatus turned to look at them both approvingly.  He ran a hand down Viv’s arm while she worked on him.

Carefully, tenderly, she slipped a single digit into Sparatus in preparation for what was to come.  She wasn’t sure how pliable turians were here, but knew that this act did nothing for her—she hoped it was satisfying to her partners, however.

Sparatus groaned when Viv had two fingers in him past the knuckle, scissoring them gently and coaxing him to relax.  She’d assumed that Sparatus had vast experience with this, so she didn’t concern herself too much with this part of it—if it was going to be a problem, she was certain that he’d have spoken up by now.

Still pulling at that tiny bit of uncertainty in the back of her mind though, she asked him, “Is there anything else you need me to do?”  Her tone was a stark change from her order before, and Viv’s concern warmed Sparatus more than he’d hoped it would.

“You’re doing great.”  He only whispered down at her, and Adrien must have taken it as a cue.  He tugged Viv’s arm away from Sparatus and encouraged her to lay on her back.  She obliged, and Adrien ran his hand up the back of Sparatus’ neck, letting his talons drag over each receding plate until he found his prize beneath the man’s fringe. 

Sparatus moved and positioned himself over Viv as she wrapped her thighs around his waist, feet brushing against Adrien’s jutting hips.  She curled her toes over the spurs and pulled him forward, bringing his front nearly flush with Sparatus’ backside

“I want you to enter her first,” Adrien growled into Sparatus’ ear from his position behind him.

The councilor needed no further orders, and Adrien’s lingering seed made his passage into Viv’s cunt smooth and seamless.  Sparatus had seated himself fully within her, and Viv writhed at the feeling of unfamiliar ridges gliding over her already over-sensitized walls.  She squeezed around him, earning a drop in his mandibles and a nearly helpless sound that reverberated through the place they were joined and through her center.

Adrien gripped his neck, peering down at Viv over Sparatus’ shoulder.  Viv couldn’t see it, but she knew that Adrien was stroking himself and teasing at the other man’s entrance.  Sparatus shifted forward, grinding the top of his pelvic plating against Viv’s clit as Adrien started to slide into him.

Sparatus buried his face between Viv’s neck and shoulder as he rumbled in approval and Adrien started to move.  His thrusts were tentative at first, but he moved with a practiced ease that Viv couldn’t ignore.  The councilor timed his thrusts into Viv as Adrien drove into him and concluded that being fucked by Adrien through Sparatus was a position she _never_ thought she’d be in, but warmth spread through her at just how _happy_ Adrien seemed to be—Sparatus, too—and she knew then that she wouldn’t change anything for the world, and that there _would be_ a next time.

She continued grinding her hips upward at meeting Sparatus’ and Adrien’s combined thrusts and she knew her threshold was soon approaching.  Groans and growls, dirty sounding clicks and rumbles filled the room combined with the obscene, slick sounds of Adrien pounding into Sparatus and, by extension, her, threw her over the edge faster than she would have liked.

She rode it out, though, and wailed as she came around Sparatus’ cock.  Her reaction clearly did it for him, too, as she felt him swell up, followed with the familiar pulsations that followed as he came inside her. 

Adrien rumbled more loudly than before and brought a hand up to the back of Sparatus’ head, running his talons over the plates on his neck before landing at his fringe, yanking until his throat was exposed in submission—to who yet, Viv wasn’t quite sure.  But the councilor didn’t protest, and a handful of sharp thrusts later, Adrien bit down on the side of the man’s neck—not hard enough to pierce flesh, but hard enough to exert control—and erupted into Sparatus.

Her mate pulled out of Sparatus with a slick _pop_ and reached to the nightstand for a set of hand towels.  The three caught their breaths and helped each other clean themselves up before collapsing into a heaving mess onto the bed.

Plates and flesh and trembling chests, clamoring hands reached for their anchors.  Viv was situated in between the two turians and their collective warmth relaxed her into a serene calm.

After a few more labored breaths, Viv looked to Adrien and cupped his free mandible as she pulled him into a soft, loving kiss.  Sparatus rested his hand at her waist, nuzzling into her neck as they all three held each other.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?”  Viv’s question was whispered, humor lining her tone.

Adrien only chuckled at her and said, “Interspecies awkwardness, remember?”

Viv only ‘hmmed’ back at him with a smile and allowed herself to relax, to drift away on this cloud that she found herself on. 

Sleep claimed them all not soon after that.

\---

 

Familiar undulating stone led to the church steps, the red darkness and decay lining her path.  Viv walked into the church, like she always did, after knocking and getting no response.  She walked near the candles glowing at the altar opposite the entrance and, per usual, each step she took forward brought her no nearer to her goal but ever further from the door.

Droplets of sweat beaded over her skin, neck itching with anxiety of what was to come—what was _always_ to come.  The familiar dark figure appeared and approached her, ominously as always.  As the figure neared, however, it did something wholly unexpected.

It reached its bony, decaying hand to the hood it wore rather than grasping at her, pulling her from this nightmare.  Instead, the shadow over the being’s face was removed as the hood draped over its back.

“Hello?”  Viv asked.  She was met with silence.

The figure looked back to her and smiled before moving further into the light; its face morphed into kind eyes and a warm smile.  “Who are you?”  Viv couldn’t mask the surprise in the voice of her dream-self—she’d never seen this person, the blonde hair cascading over her shoulders seemingly alight from within, beaming with an otherworldly, kind glow.  The woman’s eyes were impossibly blue, and warm.

The strange woman never responded, and Viv saw her close her eyes and when it was evident that the woman was about to speak, to reopen her gaze to bore into Viv’s—she woke up in her bed, next to the two rumbling turians she was sandwiched between.

For once, this dream had a different ending. 

Viv didn’t know what that meant.

After shaking off the strange events of her recurring nightmare that ended differently this time, she attempted to get out of bed without waking Sparatus and Adrien, but she wouldn’t be so lucky.  Her mate caught her at the wrist and rumbled at her to stay, but instead she smiled down at him and pecked his cheek before heading downstairs to brew some coffee for herself, and kava for the two of them.

The smell was enough to pull them from their slumbers.  Something told Viv that the next morning might be awkward, but she quickly learned that her fears were unfounded.  Sparatus and Adrien seated themselves at the island kitchen, Viv bringing mugs over for all three of them. 

They both trilled their thanks to her and she inclined her head in return.  Discussing plans for the day and in the weeks coming forward—Adrien and Viv were planning on settling in their second home on Palaven once the relays were fully functional—the three shared in amicable conversation, and even at times a comfortable silence.

It didn’t feel awkward, it didn’t feel strange, it felt…oddly _normal_ , and Viv wasn’t sure what to do with that feeling, so she filed it away to address later.

Soon, much too soon, their interlude had to end. 

“Thank you both for your hospitality.”  Sparatus thanked them with a gracious, shallow bow and a smile.  “I do hope that we have the chance to do this again sometime.”

Viv didn’t wait and blurted out, “Oh, you can count on it.”

And at that, both turians erupted in laughter at Viv’s eagerness.  “I’m glad to hear it.”  Sparatus words were a humored rumble, and it made Viv smile from ear to ear.  Adrien, somewhat proudly, watched the exchange before clasping elbows with Sparatus and guiding him to the door.

Adrien came back to Viv’s side and rested a palm at the small of her back, leaning over to nuzzle her brow with his and move in for a chaste kiss.

“So, my love,” Adrien rumbled.  “Thoughts?”

“That was…” she paused to find the words, then settled on “… _incredible_.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”  He said the words simply, then sweetly pecked her forehead with his mouth plates.  “If we have to part for duties, I trust him to keep you warm, you know that?”

Viv looked at him with a question in her eyes, then said “I like him, I trust him.  The same goes for you, really.  Though, I’m sure it’s more fun when we’re all together.”

“Spirits, I love the way you think.”

“I just didn’t think I’d be so comfortable with him, I guess.”  Viv elaborated, “It felt so… _natural_ with him.  I don’t really know how to explain it.  I hated that guy, for _years_.”

He laughed sweetly at her admission, then said “I know.  But what better way to…what’s the human phrase?  ‘Bury the hatchet?’”

“Sparatus certainly buried _something_ last night, and it definitely wasn’t a hatchet.”

Her sense of humor maintained, even after embarking on such a new adventure together, and Adrien’s chest swelled in pride at just how _turian_ Viv could sometimes be.  The woman baffled him, and he couldn’t wait for whatever surprises their life together held.

It was true, too, that Adrien felt better about having someone to keep her company when he couldn’t.  It hadn’t been a problem yet since they were bound to travel between Earth and the Citadel—never too far away.  But the possibility of being split up occasionally in the line of duty was a real possibility indeed, and knowing that Sparatus would at the very least be on the Citadel for her sent a wave of relief through him.

No matter what, his Viv was taken care of.  And it was all he could hope to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna


	19. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends, new challenges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters owned by BioWare.

With the relay in Sol repaired and the decision to link up the major homeworlds made, travel slowly but surely resumed at a crawling pace through the Milky Way.  Many were able to pool their resources and travel to the nearest relays, others remained stranded until more systems awoke from their slumbers.

Fortunately, Normandy and her crew were able to get back to the Citadel before Viv and Adrien were set to take off for Palaven.  Stranded on Virmire for months on end as her crew had been, Viv had started to miss the deep connections she had with those who saw the Reaper War through with her until the end.  Bonds forged in battle weren’t easily broken, and it was a relief to see her team start the beginning steps at getting on with their lives after the war.

Gods knew it took her long enough, and she was fortunate to have remained in the system.  She couldn’t bear to think of what her crew had gone through, unable to help in the reconstruction efforts on a larger scale—though ever the altruists, they aided the people in their immediate surroundings in whatever ways they could.  Feeling helpless like that wasn’t something Viv dealt with well, and if she knew anything about her crew, it was that they felt the same.

Links between systems were established—Earth, Sur’Kesh, Tuchanka, Palaven, and Thessia were now all accessible.  Units stationed during reconstruction on Earth and the Citadel were funneling out, traveling back to their homeworlds to take part in any ongoing rebuilding efforts there. 

Slowly, crews started expanding out to link to other prominent words, to expedite the repair of the Milky Way’s other relays—Noveria, Illium, Invictus, while not necessarily homeworlds, they were worlds of great importance and trading hubs for many species.  Basic survival needs took priority; however, trade and commerce were almost as important.  Resuming those routines in the galaxy was also a priority if they had any hope of truly moving forward.

Viv and Adrien were set to travel to Palaven in three days’ time, and the logistics had been a nightmare.  Adrien had been keeping up with frequent communications to those in command, particularly those in charge of reconstruction in Cipritine, but there was only so much he could do from the Citadel without being there in the flesh.  He was ready to assess the damage for himself, and aid in getting life on Palaven back to some semblance of normality.

He knew they had trying work ahead.

But while he was concerned with the state of his homeworld, he also had deep seated doubt about how Viv would adapt to life there.  Adrien knew they’d be spending their time between the Citadel and Palaven, but being so closely connected to the turian governing body would be new to her—there was a lot of image maintenance associated with his position, and while she was getting used to her own role in being a prominent figure, he was quite uncertain about how she would adapt to the protocols required of him ahead of the turian people.

After all, turian politics functioned differently than those of humans, and most of Viv’s exposure to it had been working with him and Sparatus.  They’d been lucky with the lack of backlash their relationship had seen during the war, but now that people had other things to think about, Adrien was worried that their relatively calm presence in the public eye was tenuous at best.

Some separatist groups still had a lot of pull, and the end of a galaxy-wide war likely wasn’t enough to completely pull that ideology out from under his people.  They’d have to be vigilant, and would have to project an image befitting of a Primarch and his mate.

Which, was another issue entirely.  They hadn’t been legally bonded yet—not that it mattered in terms of how they both saw their relationship, no—it _would_ matter to some though, that their leader hadn’t taken the steps to seal their bond before the Spirits and the people he was leading.  He hoped at least, for both their sakes, that they could get away with a small, quiet ceremony.  Maybe he and Sparatus could work out having it on the Citadel.

Adrien wasn’t optimistic about that possibility.

Viv was set to return soon from a meeting with the Council, the first with all four members present in-the-flesh.  They assisted with getting her set up in Hierarchy channels, given her position as a liaison between them and the humans.  There was a lot of ground to cover, considering that she wasn’t _technically_ regarded as Hierarchy personnel, but would be working in tandem with them and human governing bodies. 

Adrien knew she’d be exhausted.  He ran out to the market down the street to pick up a refill of her favorite whiskey—he knew she’d need it when she returned, and he always looked for ways he could help make her life just a little bit easier.

She wasn’t a soldier anymore—not the kind who wielded big guns and went after sentient machines, anyway—and some things had been easier than others to adjust to.  Fortunately, she had both himself and Sparatus to lean on.  He had far more political experience than Adrien had, and both Viv and himself had found his insight in dealing with the others invaluable.  Tevos had gotten better since the war, though asari leadership withholding critical information and resources until it was almost too late had somewhat dampened respect for the asari, at least at this point.

Viv dreaded facing the new salarian councilor; they’d gone toe to toe when the Dalatrass was aboard the Normandy, and they were both confident that their abrasive working relationship would take some time to mend, if ever it could be.  She wasn’t as concerned about dealing with Parasini—the woman had a devious edge, but Viv had no reason to believe that she would be nearly the thorn in her side that Linron would or hell, even as Sparatus was at the commencement of their working relationship.

The stories Viv told him about their previous interactions had Adrien laughing harder than he had in a long time.  Funny how things change in the face of crisis.

He sipped his kava, reading report after report on a datapad to glean as much information about the state of Cipritine as he could, and he was pulled from his article by the lock to their apartment disengaging and Viv stomping through the doorway.  He didn’t even have to look at her to know that her face bore a scowl—her footsteps told him everything he needed to know.

“Linron?” 

“Fucking damn right, Linron,” Viv said, marching to the counter where the fresh bottle of Maker’s Adrien picked up for her sat.  She twisted off the bottlecap and pulled out a tumbler, cabinet door slamming shut with her utter lack of discretion.

She took a sip, then explained.  “Doesn’t look like the salarians are going to willingly have any formal role in maintaining ties with Tuchanka.  At least not if she has anything to do with it.”

Adrien let out a frustrated groan and asked, “Has she even bothered to speak with Wrex or Bakara?”

“Not since we were all together on the Normandy,” she answered.  “Grunt’s got this STG lead going still, but without formal Union support, I don’t think we’re going to get very far.”

Viv drew her glass to her lips again, taking a sip as she let her eyelids slide shut.  Adrien walked over and stood at her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin atop her head as his mandibles tangled in her hair.

“They’ll see, someday,” he rumbled affectionately.

“I do hope to eventually share in your optimism.”  She leaned into him, letting his soothing vibrations mingle with the alcohol to calm her down. “Sparatus was even getting pissed, he air quoted her, you know.”

He snorted a quick laugh then said, “That’s dangerous territory.”

Viv hummed in agreement, not speaking again until she was sufficiently calmed.  “So are you ready for this dinner tonight?  Still planning on popping the question to Garrus?”

“Yes,” he said.  “He doesn’t need to travel with us, I’d like him to take as much time as he needs to consider it.  His talents would be quite useful, but I’m not sure that he will be keen on the spotlight that follows the position, I’m afraid.”

“Garrus might surprise you.”  Viv took a sip.  “He’s not very modest, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Adrien snorted—a habit he’d picked up from Viv, no doubt—before agreeing with her.  “I suppose you’re right.”

“Besides,” Viv started, “I think it would be good to get more non-politicians in at the ground floor in the Hierarchy.  The traditionalism has to come to an end, and getting more people in who think like you, like Garrus could only be a positive.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”  Adrien kissed the top of her head before refilling her glass for her.  Viv accepted it as he handed it to her, taking a sip and sitting atop a stool at the counter.  Adrien sat next to her, taking the hand that wasn’t occupied with her glass into his.

Viv made eye contact, signaling him to speak.  He had her full attention.

“Palaven,” he began, pausing as if to collect his thoughts.  “has more… _conservative_ leanings than most of the turians you’ve probably met.  We’re not a bunch of bigots and racists, but those groups exist and some may have more pull than we’d like.  As Primarch, it’s a priority of mine to weed out these groups.  But from here, there’s little I can do.  I know already that a fact of the matter is that there are people who won’t take kindly to our bond.  And…I want you to be prepared for that.”

“That’s all fine and good,” Viv answered, “But you’re a _Primarch_.  I don’t know what you really want me to do.  We’re going to have to be in the public eye, we can’t…hide, you know?”

“I know,” he said.  “I just…wanted it to be something you were aware of.  And I hope it isn’t a problem, but there’s every chance that it could be.  It wasn’t a problem during the war, and it had the intended effect of inspiring cooperation between our species, but that was during wartime.  They have other things to occupy their thoughts now, and old prejudices may very well be among them.”

The concern underlying his words was unmistakable, and Viv felt a pang of worry as a result.  It was something she thought about, but among the other struggles of her day to day interactions in her line of work, she’d effectively pushed it to the back of her mind.  Now though, set to leave for Palaven in just a few days, it gave her an uncomfortable twist to her insides. 

She had to get over it; they had a job to do, after all.

Viv nodded, taking another swig of her drink before standing up and pushing off the counter.  “I know,” she said.  “We’ll just have to take it one day at a time.”

Adrien pulled her in for a brief, reassuring hug.  She craned her neck and pecked him on a mandible.  “I’m going to go freshen up before we head out,” she said.  “Should be ready in fifteen.”

“Sounds good, beautiful.”

She shook off the nerves from their conversation, before making her way upstairs to prepare for an evening with her friends.  After the day she had, she wanted the alcohol to flow and to catch up with those she missed most. 

\--- 

In the interest of keeping things casual, Viv and Adrien met up with Garrus and Liara at a small dextro-levo sushi joint that was a short walk away from Flux.  The four opted for a brief, casual dinner on the patio before heading over to the club to take advantage of the option to drink away the last few months.  Flux’s owners were also good about keeping private rooms available for Viv and Adrien, which was advantageous for a more casual setting with less-stuffy dignitaries.

They could just as well use this asset to catch up with old friends, too.  After all, the Savior of the Galaxy never had to pay for bottle service.

She and Adrien approached arm in arm, Viv waving excitedly to Garrus and Liara as she spotted them at a table just outside—both wearing civvies, but visibly armed.  Damn, she loved her friends.

Her smile was infectious, and Adrien couldn’t help his own that spread his mandibles wide.  Viv broke free from his arm and ran to sweep Liara in a crushing embrace; Adrien and Garrus simply clasped elbows in a formal turian greeting, though they both held on for longer than what was truly necessary.  They were good friends too, and he was happy to see everyone return safely. 

Viv wasn’t nearly as formal when she greeted Garrus however, attempting the same bruising hug on him that she did with Liara.  It caught him off guard, and he stumbled back just short of them both tripping over themselves. 

“It’s so fucking good to see you guys,” Viv said, a small tear leaving her eye.  She wiped it away with the back of her hand and noticed Liara do the same.

“It’s good to see you too, Shepard,” Liara echoed.  “You too, Primarch.”

“Just Viv, ok?  And I’m sure he won’t mind one bit if it’s Adrien while we’re out.”

“I’d prefer it, actually.  We have one business item to discuss, and then I fully intend on catching up with you and imbibing until my poor, old turian heart is content.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”  Garrus’ encouragement made Viv smile and she gestured to the kiosk, so they could place their orders and get the evening started.

“Citadel seems no worse for the wear,” Garrus observed, “Keepers staying busy, I take it?”

“Hah!”  Viv laughed, then said “Did I tell you about when the keepers blocked off the routes to one of the med centers during reconstruction here?  Adrien had to put together an entire ‘keeper taskforce’ to keep those shits under control.  It would have been funny if, you know, lives weren’t depending on the supplies we were funneling through those tunnels.  It was a damn mess.”

Adrien shook his head from side to side, mandibles flaring with an exasperated sigh.  “Dreadful work, that,” he said.  “One of my first duties as a post-war Primarch.  Because it was a problem that only a Primarch could solve, according to our illustrious Council.”

“Sounds about right,” Garrus said.  “Doesn’t seem like they’ve been too bad though, once the Citadel was back in working order.  At least as far as we’ve heard.”

“They really haven’t been, honestly.  Well, up until now at least.  Linron and Parasini just had their offices set up and are getting into the flow of things, and Linron is _just_ as much of a pain in the ass as I thought she’d be.  Parasini’s fine, don’t know a ton about the way she works yet but I have a good feeling about it.  Sparatus and Tevos have been surprisingly…great, honestly.”

Adrien threw her a smirk at that, earning a questioning lift of brow from Garrus.  He didn’t acknowledge the expression with a response however, and the train of thought was disrupted as their trays arrived at the counter.  The four grabbed their food and sat down at a table.

“So,” Adrien started.  “I know it’s been a while for all of us, and I know we are all eager to get this evening going, but there are a few matters that we need to discuss before we are too far gone.”

Liara knowingly smiled, likely having picked up a trail of information that indicated Garrus as a prime candidate for viceroy to the Primarch.  Nothing got past Liara these days.

Viv smiled too, hoping that Garrus would accept Adrien’s proposition.  Sure, her want to have him along was somewhat selfish.  She’d have Adrien on Palaven, of course, but it wouldn’t hurt to have other friends in high places either.  Viv hoped he’s say yes.

“I have a temporary second-in-command helping with reconstruction on Earth, but did not formally ask him to accept a role as my viceroy.  He has told me himself that he is content with his work there and has accepted a permanent position.  I would like to ask you, Garrus, to accept a position as my viceroy.  Your work during the war was inspiring, and it would be a great honor to continue to serve with you.”

Garrus’ eyes went as wide as they could, mandibles completely slack.  Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting an offer such as this.  He collected himself, slowly, before sparing a glance at Shepard and Liara before looking back to Adrien.

“Viceroy to the Primarch of Palaven?” he asked.  “Are you sure?  I’m not a very good turian, Adrien.  I mean…”

“Save it, Garrus.”  Adrien stopped his bumbling with a raised hand and a cool tone to his words.  “If there is one thing that I have learned from this war, it’s that good turian or not, if you can get the job done then people will respect you in the face of crisis.  Your work as my advisor saved _millions_. You see patterns and opportunities that even I cannot, and could use those skills in my cabinet.”

“I…” Garrus stumbled, pausing before saying simply, “I’ll think about it.”

“Take the time you need,” Adrien said.  “Viv and myself leave for Palaven in a few days.  You are welcome to travel with us, or if you have not yet come to a decision, you are welcome to meet us there if your answer is yes.  I have other candidates, but none so worthy as you.”

“I think you’re only asking me to flaunt my good looks,” Garrus joked, a semblance of his typical self shining through.  “But I will give it serious thought.”

Viv could tell that Garrus’ stomach was doing somersaults—his hands shook slightly as he reached for his drink, flustered so easily at the older turian’s praise.  Garrus looked up to Adrien quite a lot, Viv knew that much.  Her friend was probably having a hard time coming to terms with how integral he’d been to their success. She chose not to push him one way or another though—she knew he’d remember that his talents were wasted in C-Sec, and that he would recognize it as an opportunity to continue the work he had been doing. He wasn’t one for politics, but he cared about his people.

Viv let Garrus digest what was asked of him for a moment before turning to face Liara who wore a subtle smile that made her big, blue eyes gleam.  “Liara,” Viv said.

“The answer is yes.”  Liara said the words with a soft nod, eyes drifting closed and smile growing wider.  It was a display of the warmth that always accompanied Liara’s presence.  Viv missed that so much.

“Thank the Spirits,” Viv said.  “Aria all but laughed in my face when I asked her.”

“I managed to fight the Reapers while being the Shadow Broker, Shepard.  Did you realistically think I’d say no?”

“Hell, I don’t know, Liara.”  Shepard took a swig.  “Didn’t want to step on your little blue Shadow Broker toes.”

All three of her companions looked at her with an expression that said _keep it down, loud mouth_.

Viv shrunk in her seat in concession.  “I’ll send you the schedule of our next few meetings and locations.  If you can’t be there in person, here’s the comm link.”

“Thank you, Shepard.”

“So no Tali?”  Adrien asked, surprised the quarian hadn’t accompanied them.

“No, she high-tailed it back to Rannoch,” Garrus answered.  “She sends her regards, and said you better come visit her new house as soon as you can, ‘or else.’”

_Turians and their air quotes, I’ll never understand why they picked up that gesture over all else._

Viv chuckled softly at Garrus, dork that he was. But damn was she happy to see him. 

The four caught up, making plans, being excited about a future that wasn’t hypothetical.  It was a new feeling for the crew, but it looked good on them.  It looked like they were all truly free, for the very first time.  And it was perfect.

They finished their meals and proceeded on the short walk to Flux, coursing through the throngs of people along the Citadel streets.  The station seemed more full, alive—Viv supposed it made sense, with many of its residents being stranded off-world for so long.  It was like there was life again, somewhat _normal_ life. 

Garrus, Liara, Adrien, and Viv spent the evening drinking until their livers sobbed.  It was a night to remember, if anything due to all of them acknowledging that things would never be the same.  While the war was over, and life was moving on, their lives were taking paths that none of them expected.  Things were changing, and she welcomed all of it.

They each had control of their destinies now.  And while uncharted territory awaited each forward step, it was territory best traversed with the people she cared about.  Gratitude overwhelmed her drunken state, and as Viv corralled her friends to the skycar that would deliver them back to she and Adrien’s apartment, she slurred “You guys.  I love you. Thank you so much.”

“Shepard,” Garrus answered, subharmonics a dull, inebriated throb to his words.  “I don’t know why you’re thanking us.  You’re the one who got us through this mess.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you nerds.”

Adrien remained quiet, letting the three have their moment.  Liara was all smiles, and exceptionally handsy when she got this loose.  She wouldn’t stop hugging any one of them she could get her hands on.  Shepard had never seen her like this before, but it was a sight she could certainly get used to. 

Drunken camaraderie guided them home, and all but Shepard—who was markedly more poised and collected than when they left the bar—stumbled out of the skycar and up to the apartment. 

“Feel free to crash wherever,” Viv said.  “You remember where the bedrooms are.  I think I’m just gonna hit the rack.  Cybernetics and all, now I’m just more tired than drunk.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Garrus slurred out.  “Oh. Before you two head up.  Uh…the answer’s yes.”

Adrien rumbled quietly, then said “See if you feel the same way in the morning.  We’ll take it from there.”

Garrus nodded in understanding, and Viv and Adrien headed to their room.  They both undressed and flopped ungracefully into the bed, Viv adjusting herself on her side and Adrien scooting in behind her. 

“I’m so glad we got to do that,” she said, blissfully as her eyes drifted closed.

“Me too,” Adrien said softly, brushing her hair down with his talons before it could get caught in his mandibles.  “Get some rest.  We have some big days ahead of us.”

She was asleep before he finished the sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna


	20. Cipritine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two arrive on Palaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters owned by BioWare.

Adrien gripped Viv’s hand tightly as their shuttle descended over Cipritine port.  He avoided looking out the windows, afraid of what he might see.  Instead, he let the presence of his beloved consume him through their full descent. 

Viv smiled at him, gripping his hand back.  Leaning into him, she said “It’ll all be okay.”  Her voice was calm, unassuming.  But that familiar gravity that only she had brought him back into focus.  They were here, together.  Even if Cipritine—and Palaven as a whole—was a mess, there wasn’t a problem in the galaxy they couldn’t solve together.

Shuttle drifting down, they both looked at each other for comfort.  When the hatch lifted open, Adrien closed his eyes until he heard the mechanical hiss stop, and opened them to gaze upon the main hub of Cipritine travel in an operational state, but a mere fraction of what he’d remembered it as.

Few original structures and pillars remained, most of the building and surroundings were makeshift or worse.  The port always had a utilitarian look, but as with most turian architecture, it had a sleek and tidy aesthetic.  That stylish functionality was all but gone, most of the port restructured using recycled materials from the original.  The beams and pillars holding the docks together were patchwork, where they were once uniform.  Scuffed and charred, the metals that were once pristine were now dented and matte.  None of the original luster remained of Cipritine’s crown jewel; its beauty was admired far and wide, but it was no more.

Anxiety twisted in Adrien’s gut at what the rest of the city would look like.  He’d intentionally avoided seeing pictures, relying only on Palaven command to get him information about the state of the planet.  Media tended to skew the truth of course, so he didn’t want to risk having the wrong picture painted by a journalist with nothing better to do. 

He was glad for it, but a small part of him wished he’d been more prepared.  At the very least, Adrien found comfort in that his people rallied and were doing their best.  While the port was no longer as sound as it once was, it was functional—life on Palaven could see at least some sense of normalcy—and that’s what mattered to the Primarch. 

Things could look bad, desolate, hopeless even.  But the resilience of their people was something that, as Primarch, he hoped to engender.  Even from afar, it seemed that the work put forth on Earth and the Citadel made a difference, and not just to the immediate recipients of the aid they worked to secure.  After all, Earth was hit harder than Palaven was.  And collective efforts were able to push things forward there, resources be damned—then they could do it here, too.

He and Viv were both pulled from their observations as the sound of heavy, booted footsteps drew near.  Six guards approached them, and in greeting Adrien released Viv’s hand and stood straight, hands clasped behind his back. 

Viv realized then, that this was his ‘secret service’ equivalent, so she stood up straighter and tried her best to look dignified. 

“Men,” Adrien said, authority in his tone as he tipped his head down.  The six soldiers, in unison, returned the gesture.  As they looked back up to their Primarch, the turian in front motioned his associates to line up on either side of Adrien and Viv.

“Right this way,” he said after they were all in formation.  He marched them through the port, veering to the left after passing several docks that were in the same—or worse—condition than the one at witch they arrived.  Some were being used as makeshift refugee housing like the accommodations the Citadel provided; many had yet to return to their homes or find loved ones to call upon.

Viv stayed quiet, her expression steadfast, reflecting that of the famous Commander.  Some passersby spared glances, some saluted.  Some pretended not to acknowledge them at all.  The eight of them were able to make it through to the private exit without trouble, and for that both Adrien and Viv were fortunate.

They walked outside, the hot Palaven sun beating down on them through the hazy, red-tinged sky. 

“Wow,” was all Viv could muster.  The soldiers seemed to take it as a cue, waiting patiently to the side of where Viv and Adrien stood.  She was taking in his homeworld for the first time, and she wanted to remember every moment of it.

He leaned down to speak directly in her ear, trying his best to keep this as a quiet moment between the two of them without prying eyes.  “You’re sure your skin will be okay?”

Viv’s heart warmed at his genuine concern, then reassured him as she had been for weeks since her meeting with Miranda.  “Upgrades, love,” she answered, pulling him down for a chaste kiss.  “Cerberus spared no expense, and Miranda said I’ll adapt fine.  You have nothing to worry about.”

He purred, nuzzling her forehead briefly and they turned their eyes back to the sky, then down to the rubble-littered, charred surroundings.  Plant life was sparse but returning—silver leaves and grass shook gently in the warm, humid breeze.  Small areas saw growth returning, but most were too burned and upturned to be hospitable to vegetation. 

Skyscrapers jutted up into the horizon.  Most were cracked and split, jagged versions of their former selves.  Viv could see their former beauty in their simple design, but what was once shining metal and utility was now broken, in ruins.  Very few of the spires looked like they’d seen no impairment.  It broke her heart some, that she would never be able to take in the unique beauty of Cipritine.  Hailed once as one of the most stunning cities in the galaxy, it was now a sprawl of decay.  She could see the hurt fall over Adrien’s stern features, too.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. 

“I saw London, Viv.” His timbre was low, subvocals humming with what Viv could only identify as sorrow.  “This… is nothing compared to what happened there.”

“Hey, hey,” she said, pressing her form against his as his arms wrapped around her.  “This isn’t the time to feel sorry for Earth, or for me because you have some idea that we had it worse.  Look at the big picture, ok?  We _all_ went through this, had to watch our brothers and sisters fall, our cities and nations crumble.  This happened to the _galaxy_ , not this homeworld or that one.  I don’t want to hear about who had it worse, because when we start thinking about it that way it becomes a competition.  Think of it as a unit, of several little pieces making up the whole.  That’s how we move forward.”

Adrien chirruped softly through his budding keen, holding her tighter than before.  “You’re… you’re right,” he said.  “It’s just, hard to take in is all.”

“I know it is,” she said.  “But if Earth can get moving with all that help, with all those people working together, we can get through it here, too.  I’m sure Palaven was in much worse shape right after all this.  To see things back up and running, people out and about—that tells me that they’re on the right track.  With most of the galaxy mobile again, we can get this fixed up in no time.  I believe in us, I really do.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” one of the troupe said—a turian with pale plates and ebony clan markings streaking his features.  “But your presence has been requested at the _Forimus_.”

“Of course, that would be one of the first places to be rebuilt,” Adrien scoffed.  Viv smiled and released him, allowing him to be the Primarch that he needed to be.  His guards paid no mind to his joke, not reacting positively or negatively; passive, each of them. 

“Your transport is ready, if you’ll just follow me, Sir.”

Viv and Adrien followed the turian’s lead, settling into the back of an expensive-looking skycar. They wasted no time in departing; two guards sat in the front, and the other four took off in two other vehicles—one to lead and one to guard the rear.

She reached over and took Adrien’s hand, her own palm clammy with nerves.  Viv didn’t think they would be heading to the center of turian government immediately upon their arrival, expecting to have some time to settle in.  Then she reminded herself of the ruthless efficiency characteristic of turians and all their endeavors, and suddenly it didn’t feel so strange.

Once they lifted off, the vehicle filled with silence.  The two turians in front diligently navigated the skyway, as Viv and Adrien looked out of the windows and down at Cipritine below.  Piles and piles of building materials lined the streets, each sorted and serving its purpose.  They were reusing what they could from the rubble, and large trucks parked near the various stores of recycled metal held new materials, likely minted from scraps.

Centers of commerce and business—volus run, no doubt—looked like they were stable enough to operate, and that at least was a start.  Where construction projects weren’t as dense, throngs of people wove in and out of public parks, open spaces peppered throughout the city.  Care had been taken to make these communal spaces accessible again. Viv thought that parks and the like allowed a chance at natural splendor once more, and was glad that even a militaristic society such as theirs remembered that these things were important. 

Viv was reminded, yet again, that some things simply transcend species.

The vehicle slowed as it left the outskirts and moved into the dense city ahead, skyways gracefully navigating the ruins surrounding.  In the distance a large, domed structure loomed ahead; its architecture said _business_ , and Viv immediately felt like she wouldn’t fit in, outsider that she was.  She wasn’t military anymore, didn’t feel the need for duty and protocol.  From what she learned during her experiences with their military, she simply felt like she would be too relaxed for any of them to take her seriously.

She could be all business and authority when she needed to be, but it wasn’t often anymore that she _felt_ that need.  When Viv ran the ambassador meetings, she hung things up before they got too out of control, before she’d need to lay down the hammer.  It was a post-war world, and she didn’t feel the need to exert the authority that she had before.  She let those reigns go to Adrien a long time ago, and it was freeing in its own way.  Her associates respected her enough not to challenge what she asked, and only offered suggestions to build upon her plans.  There was no need for hierarchy or command in her own life anymore, and she felt like that may need to change depending on how she was seen by her Palaveni associates.

Viv was unsure as to how to adapt, how much she would need to fundamentally change about the way she interacted with others.  She had worked with many turians in the past, but almost all of them were self-proclaimed ‘bad turians.’  Working with ‘good’ turians?  This was new and would likely take some growth on her part.  It was a challenge that Adrien would be happy to help her with she knew, but she would certainly need to unlearn old habits and make room for new ones to be successful.  She hoped Adrien wouldn’t lose patience with her.

He stirred her from her observations, her self-reflections.  “What are you thinking about?”  He asked, soothingly at having sensed her tension.

“That there’s no way in hell I’m going to fit in here.”

“Why do you say that?”  Adrien’s voice was a soft rumble, an attempt at mending her fraying nerves.

“So we’re looking at what I’m assuming is the _Forimus_ , ahead right?”

“Yes,” he answered, a question in his subvocals.

“You’ve seen pictures of the White House, right?  From Earth?”

“Of course,” he said.  “But what does that have to do with anything, love?  I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

“The architecture of a people’s governmental hubs says a lot to me, about the style of leadership. The… _arm_ they choose to exert,” Viv started explaining, brow furrowed at thinking of the right words to explain her mental quandary.  “The White House, for example, has columns and pillars at the front.  It’s white, of course, which in the eyes of our people, is a calming color.  A pure color, know what I mean?”

“Sort of how to humans, red can be associated with a warning, or danger,” Adrien started, leading into a question.  “And how to turians, those very same things are connoted with blue?”

“Yeah, sort of,” she said.  “But it’s more than simple color association.  It’s white, with several pillars on the outside that hold it all together.  It’s big, sure.  But it isn’t necessarily built in such a way as to be _intentionally_ intimidating.  It’s strong but meant to be perceived as a positive force.  Say what you will about our government being overbearing—I agree, it is—but the building itself, the symbol of the highest tier of our government, isn’t foreboding.  To me, its structure reflects strength, positive leadership.  It’s noble.  And all of those little things are said to me by the way that it’s built.”

“And the appearance of the _Forimus_ gives you a different feeling?” 

“Exactly,” Viv answered.  “It’s domed, like some of our capitol buildings are, but far larger and encompassing almost the entire structure. To me, that feels like it umbrellas over all things. And then there’s the color—it looks like metal, but has this rich grey hue, almost black.  There’s a darkness to it, almost menacing.” 

“On Palaven, and any turian world, the Hierarchy is a fundamental part of our lives.”  He wrapped his arm around Viv’s shoulders as he spoke.  “I never really thought about the very building that houses the highest tier would say as much, but I suppose you’re right.  It’s meant to show the power, the strength of the highest tiers, when I think of it that way.”

“It’s just intimidating, is all,” she said.

Viv quieted herself, realizing that she was analyzing this a little too deeply.  She closed her eyes and breathed deep, getting a grip.  Perhaps architecture communicated different language here, and she would simply need to learn it.

“I’m sorry, I’m just… thinking too much into things.”

“You are,” he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.  “But I appreciate your perspective, and the unease you must be feeling.  Especially as we approach a building so large and intimidating and different from what you’re used to seeing.  I didn’t realize that architecture was something that meant so much to you, that spoke so loudly to you.”

“I’ve always had an interest, sure,” she said.  “This is just all… _new_ to me, so I’m reading into things a bit much.  I’ll be fine.  I have you here, don’t I?”

Adrien only purred softly, rubbing the side of his face into hers and flicking a mandible in a gentle, reassuring caress to her cheek.  She calmed instantly at the gesture as the skycar descended and approached the carport.

“You’ll do fine,” he rumbled, once more. 

“I trust you,” she said.

The car stopped, and the two turians in the front of the car exited the vehicle and walked to either sides, opening the doors for Viv and Adrien both.

Viv breathed deep, looking over the top of the car to Adrien as she stood up straight.  His face was steeled, expression stern.  He’d left Adrien in the car, and now in his place the Primarch stood tall.  A valet service took the three cars that served as their entourage, all six guards taking up their formation as their leader gestured to the rest of the troupe, indicating that it was time to move forward. 

The eight of them marched on, toward the massive double-doors that marked the _Forimus_ entrance—one reserved for only the most esteemed leaders, who needed a private entry to avoid the ever-present masses of reporters and those who wished to get a peek at what life returning to normal on Palaven looked like.

Unfortunately, the media would have to wait another day to catch a glimpse of the now-renowned power couple.  It was their first day here, after months of being away—Adrien had a homeworld to assess, and Viv had an entirely new culture to adapt to.

Both had their work cut out for them, in very different ways.  The media could wait, but they wouldn’t do so forever.  Today was not the day to face that problem, but they would have to soon; it was only a matter of time until silence started to mean something other than just that.  The absence of news was news on its own, and people started _talking_ in such media droughts. 

Two guards approached the entrance, standing side by side as the pushed open the doors.  A draft ran over Viv’s face as they swung open, their weight making the hinges groan.  Matte silver flooring adorned the massive open space, columns interspersed throughout the atrium added an air of nobility to the premises.

 _Yeah, definitely out of place_.

Viv didn’t let her nerves get the best of her, and before her attention could be diverted to every architectural marvel of the place, a guard spoke up and said “We have offices set up for both of you.  Ambassador Shepard, yours is just down this hall in the Embassy Wing.”  He gestured with his hand to the left, the aforementioned hallway in her sights.

“And Primarch,” the turian started.  “We lost a great deal of the original structure, but we’ve restored the Office of the Primarch to the best of our capabilities.  We hope that the accommodations are amenable.”

“Thank you,” Adrien said, a slight tilt to his brow.  “And lodging, while the villa is under construction?”

“Ahh, yes,” he answered. “Temporarily, you’ll be staying on site.  Sublevel three.”  The two linked their omni-tools and exchanged the necessary information. 

Viv smiled, and echoed Adrien’s thanks.  Four of the guards walked away, while two of them remained with arms at the ready. 

Adrien offered Viv his elbow, and she linked arms with him and was thankful for the contact, however small.  She let him lead the way, then said “I say we get acquainted with our offices tomorrow.  I’m ready for a big, comfy, silly-looking turian bed.”

He laughed sympathetically.  “The perfect plan,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna


	21. Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linron still sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to ShudderShock for beta reading.
> 
> characters owned by bioware.

Viv sipped her coffee as she walked to the lift down the hall from she and Adrien’s temporary lodging.  It felt like the captain’s cabin on the Normandy, which was fine by her.  She’d gotten used to their spacious Citadel apartment—Anderson, bless him—but found that she’d adapted back to less space with little to no problem.  Their place in the _Forimus’_ sublevel had a kitchen, too; not that _she_ knew her way around it, but a constant source of entertainment for her was watching Adrien attempt to cook levo meals with whatever supplies he could find that weren’t nutrient paste.

Lately, some of his concoctions had even been edible.

She reached the elevator and called it down, doors hissing open and she stepped in, catching up on the reports scrolling over her omni-tool’s interface.  Her ambassadors were making great progress, and she looked forward to planning the next steps as each update grew more positive by the week. 

Tali had been reporting in from Rannoch for the last few months and their progress had been, in no uncertain terms, remarkable.  Functioning colonies were springing up all over the planet, and the geth working alongside them were able to predict resource availability far better than simple quarian observation methods would allow.  They’d helped get their immune systems back on track—the masks that were once part and parcel to their appearances now unnecessary to wear planetside.  Travelers and those on their pilgrimage still seemed to don the same helmets, but when Tali would radio in to their meetings via vidcom, Viv could look directly into the young quarian’s eyes rather than seeing only the glow of her gaze from behind tinted glass.

In their upcoming meeting, Tali was bringing along a prospect for a geth ambassador to join them in their efforts.  After tireless days of building, collaboration, and healing Rannoch—Tali had enough experience to guide her decision of who the best representative would be.  She’d noted that slowly but surely, the geth were becoming individuals—beings with their own characteristics, senses of humor, and skillsets.  Legion was not an anomaly, and Shepard was happy to hear that this was the case, that the relationship forged between the quarian people and the geth wasn’t temporary or misguided. 

The elevator doors slipped open and Shepard stepped out, sure footing guiding her across the atrium.  She held herself tall, eyes undistracted by the glow of her news feeds.  Her shoulders were square, and she moved with intent.  She crossed the building without a sideways glance thrown her way; she moved as if she _belonged_.

Viv walked under the massive archway leading to the wing that held her office.  The Office of the Primarch was in the wing opposite hers, but it wasn’t so far away as to prohibit short opportunities to see each other during their work days.  Viv had quickly grown to appreciate working in the same building.

As soon as she crossed the atrium and moved into the meeting space, her omni-tool pinged with a message from Liara.  She had only arrived at Cipritine Port within the last few days, having stayed on the Citadel to help Garrus tie up loose ends.  His surviving family—Castis and Solana Vakarian—sought refuge on the station toward the end of the war.  After Viv left for Palaven with Adrien, she let the four of them stay at her place while they prepared to move. The condition of the Vakarian estate rendered it currently unlivable, so the Hierarchy would be supplying lodging for the Vakarians, which wasn’t a problem—though they had to convince the powers that be to let the asari stay with them, too.  Miles of red tape later and a few choice words from the Primarch, and Liara was able to stay with them while she did business in Cipritine.

Garrus was the viceroy, after all—and the Primarch was now considered a Vakarian family friend. The Vakarians and those close to them would want for nothing, and Adrien made sure of it.

Viv settled in at the conference table, typing in her message to Liara asking her to _get the hell down here_ so they’d get a moment to catch up before business took over their time together. Garrus was meeting with Adrien to get his bearings at his new state of employ, so Liara was the only other who’d be there in person before the ambassadors radioed in.

While she was waiting for Liara to get there, yet another message popped up on her ‘tool. 

 _Sparatus_.

_[8:45 AM GST] The Citadel continues to feel empty without you and Adrien._

_I have a meeting this morning and will not be able to vidcom, though I’m sure you’ll handle just fine on your own. Fair warning: Councilor Linron insisted. I tried to talk her out of it.  Hopefully Parasini will offer some reprieve._

_The two of you are sorely missed, and I hope I can make it to Cipritine soon.  If not, please do let me know when you’ll both be returning to the Citadel._

_We have some catching up to do._

_-S_

Viv smiled to herself, eyes darting upward as the opened and there stood her asari, bright-eyed and confident. 

“Liara!” Viv leapt from her seat, running toward her friend before embracing her with bruising strength.

“Goddess, Shepard,” she greeted as she hugged her back, “You might be smaller since I last saw you, but it seems still you don’t know your own strength.”

Viv laughed before pulling away, Liara lightly coughed as their hug ended.  “Sorry,” Viv apologized.  “I just missed the hell outta you.  Feel like a damn fish outta water here when I’m not out trotting around with Adrien.  It’s just nice to have someone around I don’t feel like I have to put on airs with.”

“Oh believe me,” Liara started.  “I understand completely.  How have things been here, anyway?”

“Not awful.”  Viv sipped her coffee.

“But not great?”  Liara lifted a single eyebrow.

“Just…a lot to learn, is all,” she answered.  “I’m not the Commander anymore.  But being with Adrien means there’s a certain _persona_ expected of me.  I have to appear strong, always…I can’t just leave our apartment in sweatpants to walk down and get some grub.  It’s a whole ‘thing’ every time, and it just gets tiring is all.”

“I can see that,” Liara said.  “But I’m sure Adrien appreciates all the effort you’re putting in.”

“Oh he does, and he thanks me every day,” Viv said.  “Still doesn’t make it any easier though.”

“True enough.”  Liara opened her mouth as if to continue but halted abruptly as a series of _pings_ interrupted.  Their counterparts were calling in, and social hour would have to be put on hold.

The first holographic face to appear was the salarian councilor’s, much to Shepard’s chagrin.  Parasini was next to her though, so she maintained hope that she’d offer some equilibrium to Linron’s chiding.

“Councilors,” Viv greeted, a curt nod in tandem with the utterance.

“Ambassador.”  Parasini was the first to speak, though Linron cut in almost immediately.

“I’ve learned that your STG contact will be joining us today,” she said.  Her voice held no shred of optimism, and sounded like a curse despite the benign nature of the comment.

“So I’ve heard,” Viv said.  “But give credit where it’s due.  That was all Grunt’s doing.”

The salarian councilor’s eyes narrowed slightly at that, and she opened her mouth to speak before—thankfully—another chime interrupted, and the devil himself appeared.

“Shepard!”  Grunt bellowed.  His holographic form was not alone for the first time—a weathered salarian sat next to him.  Viv observed the newcomer right back, not speaking to the agent but acknowledging her no less.

“It’s good to see you, Grunt,” Viv said, the ever-proud smile she reserved only for the young krogan emerging in short time.  “I’m assuming this is agent Talbane?”

“Lemina, please,” the salarian corrected, voice measured in pitch.

“Lemina, then,” Shepard said.  “Good to finally put a face to a name.”

And what a face it was.  The salarian truly appeared unique, in a word—Viv understood why she didn’t want to be called ‘agent,’ or have her surname used.  With the intricate metal plating in place of her right horn, wires crossing all over the STG agent’s artificial adornment, Viv imagined it was difficult for her to keep a low profile.

Viv hoped that working with her ambassadors would eliminate the need for caution.  Under Shepard’s protection, even after the war, she strove to give her cohorts no cause for concern over their safety.  There were always risks, but Viv wanted their lives to have a measure of peace, security.

 It was the least she could do.

Lemina’s eye twitched as she looked over to Councilor Linron, distrust written across the features of them both. 

As the two salarians sized each other up, the telltale chimes of the others calling in rang through the room, disrupting the battle of wills at play.  Viv exhaled, relieved.

Tali’s holograph faded in, seated next to a geth mobile platform.  Save for the lack of N7 armor adorning the synthetic’s arm, Viv instantly thought of Legion.  It wasn’t him, of course, but since mending relations between the quarians and geth, Shepard couldn’t help but find them endearing now that they weren’t trading gunfire with each other.

With the two extra people in the room, Viv felt truly like her plans and vision for the future were slowly taking shape.  She never had the chance to notice such things before—so focused on getting from one battle to the next.  She never had the time to admire a job well done.  It was a pleasant feeling, acknowledging one’s own success.  Knowing better than to get too used to it though, she quickly snapped out of her brief daze.

“Tali,” Viv greeted the quarian who bounced in her seat with excitement.  It drew a smile to her lips before she said, “I think it’s time for introductions, then.  How about you start us off with your new friend here.”

“Eluo.”

The geth’s optical light blinked once, twice.  He seemed uneasy, tentative.  It was clear distrust, and Shepard didn’t quite know what to do to assuage that.  He’d been working alongside quarians, and to be thrust into a situation where he’d be asked to work with representatives from species across the Milky Way had to be jarring, considering the reputation that still haunted the geth.

Viv considered this before she spoke.  “Eluo,” she said.  “I’m very glad to have you here.  Can you tell us a little bit about what you’ve been able to accomplish on Rannoch?”

“This unit did not act alone,” the synthetic said. 

Tali jumped in, saving her friend from confusion.  “Shepard means what we’ve done, together.  I can talk about it if you don’t want to, El.”

Viv smiled at Tali’s casual tone toward Eluo, such a marked difference from the quarian’s previous interactions with geth platforms.  It really was a different galaxy than it was two years, a year ago.  Even still, she realized that it would take some time for the geth to be truly comfortable with the other races, having been on the receiving end of galactic vitriol for so long.  They weren’t merely servants of the quarians, fighting for a home that didn’t belong to them.  Now, they were _building_ a home, with a race that was once a sworn enemy.

It was uncharted territory, and as such would need to be navigated with care.

“Since we hadn’t lived planetside for so long, it took a while to map out the best places to settle.  Eluo and the others helped us chart a path.  We mapped out resources, proper landscaping to mitigate terraforming needs as much as possible.  They just helped us do it quicker.”  Tali looked over at her companion fondly, bright eyes and a smile plastered across her face.

“This unit was the first to see creator Zorah without a mask.” The barest hint of fascination and adoration bled through in his words.  Viv quirked an eyebrow, appraising the two.

 _Well isn’t this interesting_ , she thought.  She’d wait to bring that up in a private conversation with her quarian and hoped Tali realized she wasn’t evading this topic—not a chance.

Tali’s purple-tinged skin turned a deeper shade as the girl grinned like an idiot.

“So Eluo has helped you build a home.” Viv smiled. “And you’ve been able to work together, without incident?”

“Legion paved the way, Shepard.”  Viv could hear the solemnity in Tali’s voice, the sadness that rang through.  “I just wish that he was here to see it.”

“Me too, Tali.”  Viv looked down at her coffee cup for a moment, then asked “So what are the next steps? What can we do to help?”

“On Rannoch, not a lot honestly,” Tali answered.  “Things are moving along much quicker than we expected them too, but the biggest problem we face now is image.  Once the relays opened back up and our people started returning home, they refused to see what was right before their eyes and understand that the geth are here to _help_.  I don’t know what we can do to make them see that. Some won’t even trust removing their masks, Shepard. I never put mine back on just to _show_ them.  But it’s not enough.”

“That’s a tough one.”  Viv sipped her coffee.  “You were at war for hundreds of years.  You can’t just erase that with six months of goodwill.  Eluo, what are your thoughts?”

“Based on relevant historical data,” Eluo started.  “This unit recommends a quarian council seat.”

Linron and Parasini went wide-eyed at the suggestion, looking to each other then back to the rest of the ambassadors.

“I’m surprised you didn’t say you’d recommend a seat for your own people,” Viv cut in before the councilors could.  “Why is that?”

“We are made in the image of the Creators, Shepard-Ambassador.”  Eluo blinked once, twice.  “The consensus has no use for political posturing.  The Creators can change the message.  Can prove that geth have no ill will toward organics.”

“This is preposterous,” Linron harshly cut in.  “The mere fact that we are sitting here today, humoring this _geth_ goes to show how misguided your efforts are, Shepard.”

Shepard didn’t speak, only sat there quietly seething and waiting for Linron to finish her piece.  She was afraid to speak, fearful of saying something she might regret and fracture the already tentative threads they’ve woven between the species. 

She couldn’t afford to jeopardize it now.

Grunt, however, didn’t have the same hesitations. 

“Watch your tongue, salarian,” the krogan gruffly bellowed.  “After everything Shepard has done to save all our hides and plates, after everything the _geth_ did to help when your people were too high-minded to.  _This_ is how you show your gratitude?  Sorry Shepard, but I can’t just sit here and let her talk to you that way, not after everything.”

“Calm down, Grunt.”  Viv vocalized in the most soothing way she could given the rage boiling just below her calm exterior. 

“Calm down?”  Grunt’s retort was sharp.  “No.  During the war, the STG had to secretly assist with the Crucible because _she_ couldn’t get over curing the genophage, the second chance that the krogan _earned_.  She’s doing the same thing with the geth, and I won’t stand for it. Not while I sit in this chair.”

“Then perhaps Ambassador Shepard should reconsider who _occupies_ that chair.”  Every face in the room turned to Councilor Linron as the words left her pursed lips.  Oppressive silence blanketed them all.

“Ugh, you _bosh’tets_.”  Tali was the person Viv _least_ expected to butt in, but she was glad for it.

The young quarian continued, eyes glowing slits. “Look, I won’t pretend that all of us sitting in this room don’t have our differences.  We do, and that’s not going to change any time soon.  But what will _this_ possibly solve?”  She gestured around the room, highlighting the heated glares and tightened fists. “We’re trying to show the rest of the galaxy that the geth mean no harm, that the krogan have learned from their misdeeds.  That the asari recognize the harm they did when they withheld information that helped us end the war.  That the humans and the turians can work _together_.  We all have a lot of trust to rebuild, and hurling insults will only hold us back.”

Linron opened her mouth to speak, but Parasini held up her hand to cut her off. 

“The quarian’s right, Councilor,” Parasini said.  “You may not agree with bandaging old wounds, but to be frank—I do.  And I won’t sit here and listen to you get in the way of the forward momentum that the galaxy desperately needs.  You took an oath, Councilor.  You’d do well to remember it. And if Sparatus and Tevos were with us today, I am certain they would both say the same.”

Linron glared at Parasini, lips parting to say something but Viv took the in, speaking before the salarian got the chance to.

“I think you’re done for now, Councilor.”  Viv wore a triumphant smile at that, then turned back to her quarian and geth associates.  “So a quarian seat.  You do realize that will take some time.  I’d like to see Rannoch self-reliant and stable before we even consider it and take it to the Council as a formal request.”

“I understand,” Tali said.  “And we are well on our way to proving that to you.  We’re surveying nearby worlds for potential quarian colonization and expansion.  Rannoch is our priority, but we are already thinking about the next steps.”

“It’s what was expected of the humans, too,” Viv said.  “We had to prove that we could colonize and defend our own settlements before we were taken seriously, and I think it’s only fair that the quarians proceed toward the same aims.”

“That’s the idea,” Tali agreed.  “And with the geth working with us, there’s every chance that we’ll be successful sooner rather than later.  I can’t wait for you to come to Rannoch, Shepard.  It’s everything I ever dreamed of.  And we couldn’t have done it without the geth.”

Tali averted her gaze toward Linron at her words, the salarian’s stagnant scowl never faltering.  She didn’t speak though, seeming to think better of it.

 _Good_ , Viv thought.  She got more comfortable in her seat at the small victory.

Successfully putting that topic to rest, Shepard looked toward Grunt and Lemina.  “What of Tuchanka, Grunt?  Status update?”

“Tuchanka’s Tuchanka,” he said.  “But all things considered, we have a plan and I think you’re gonna like it.”

“Let’s hear it then, champ.”  Viv’s tone was encouraging, trying and failing to hide the warmth she harbored for the young krogan.  She loved the kid, she really did—and she was so very proud of him and the work he’d put in.  Connecting with an agent such as Talbane was no easy feat, and in a more private setting—Shepard would _love_ to hear the story about how that connection was forged.  For now, she just needed to trust that the krogan’s associate was an appropriate one.

“One of the biggest faults in the history of the krogan was being uplifted before we were ready,” Grunt started.  “And we wouldn’t be where we are without that, to be fair.  But what the krogan did with that unearned power was disastrous.”

“It was,” Shepard agreed.  “But by and large your people learned from it.  We wouldn’t have cured the genophage if you hadn’t.”

“And that’s true,” Grunt said.  “But we can do better than that.  With the krogan population on the way to rebuilding, we want to teach our young how to wield the power they’ve been given.  And to do this, Lemina and a small task force of like-minded salarians have agreed to assembling formal education structures to help us keep from making the same mistakes of the past.”

“Through education?”  Viv was genuinely surprised, not expecting such a simple thing to create the foundation of the krogan people’s future. 

“Yes.”  Lemina paused after speaking, assessing the room.  A large insect landed on the salarian’s face, getting caught in the wires of her exposed cybernetics.  A _zap_ sounded through the vidcom, and before the insect fell to the ground, Lemina’s tongue darted out and she consumed the bug whole.

Viv laughed, as did Tali and Liara.  Grunt only shook his head from side to side, and Linron failed to mask her disgust.  The councilor didn’t say anything though and let the other salarian continue.

“War was all the krogan ever knew,” the salarian agent continued.  “They had no grasp on the consequences, and were treated as a blunt edge and a temporary solution.  We change that, now.  Science, history, mathematics—the krogan youth can benefit from it all.  The problem is trusting the other races to educate them.”

“Well it _was_ a salarian who led the charge to cure the genophage, shouldn’t that say something?”  Viv was afraid she already knew the answer to that question.

“To a lot of us, yes,” Grunt replied.  “But you know as well as I do how hard of a time Clan Urdnot has had in getting people to believe that _some_ of them at least are on our side.”  The young krogan glared at Linron as his voice silenced.  “Your councilor’s attitude is _not_ helping.”

Shepard sipped her coffee again—an act that she recognized was quickly becoming a nervous tick in these meetings.  This was her first without Adrien by her side, and keeping her cool was arduous at best without him there to offer reassurance.  He’d taken to politics a hell of a lot better than she had; Viv would be the first to admit it.

But still she had a job to do, a galaxy to rebuild.  “You’re right, Grunt,” she started.  “That kind of attitude isn’t helping—not toward the krogan, not toward the geth.  But we have to show that we’re better.  And I think instituting formal education is a fantastic start.”

The salarian councilor shrunk back in her seat, quiet save for the huff that slipped from her mouth.

“So what do the salarians get out of this, Lemina?” Viv watched the salarian as she considered the question.

“While we didn’t suffer genophage biological consequences …” the salarian paused for a moment, thinking.  “…we suffered for creating in first place.  Dr. Solus made first move by synthesizing cure, STG helped.  I extend STG’s arm, better future for both krogan and salarian.  Win win.”

And oh, how Lemina reminded Viv of a female Mordin Solus sitting across from her.  “Okay,” she agreed.  “If you’re confident that reconstruction on Tuchanka is in a good place, we should try to have formalized education systems implemented before the new generation matures.”

“That’s what Wrex and Bakara thought too, Shepard,” Grunt added.  “Also thought it would be good to extend an arm to the other races, too.  The salarians have the edge in genetics, biology—but we could use quarian minds to help teach engineering, turians for actual peacekeeping rather than standard krogan _diplomacy_.  Asari could help our young biotics—this goes beyond just fixing things with the salarians.  This is a chance to make good with the rest of you bastards, too.”

“It is,” Viv agreed.  “You’ve done good work.”

Jumping on the opportunity, Liara offered to find some asari willing to educate young krogan biotics; she was here to mend relations with pretty much everyone on behalf of the asari, after all.

“I’m sure I can find some excellent candidates, Grunt,” she said.  “I’ll ping you with a roster of potentials soon.”

“Thanks, Blue.”  Grunt smiled with gratitude. 

“Well,” Viv exhaled.  “I think that’s more than enough for today.  Thanks to our esteemed councilors, my nerves are a bit frayed.”

Parasini laughed; Linron did nothing.

“Anything else before we call it good until next week?”

They all looked at each other, some shrugging and others simply shaking their heads from side to side.

“Good deal.”  Viv stood up and walked to a trashcan to discard her empty coffee cup.  “I’ll see you all very soon.”

They bid each other goodbye, and one by one the vidcom holos blinked off.

“I _really_ wish Linron would try to talk to me that way with Sparatus in the room,” Viv chuckled.

Liara looked at her, confused. 

 _Oh shit_.

“I’ll explain later.” She blushed as they left the room, parting ways for Viv to write up her meeting report, and run some errands before returning to she and Adrien’s apartment.

She arrived with bags spilling over her arms as she moved to key in her entry code but as she approached the door, her omni-tool indicated that their door was unlocked.  Viv thought Adrien and Garrus had perhaps left the office early and were posted up at their place, but as she cleared the doorway it became abundantly clear that nobody was home.

 _Odd_. 

Viv placed her bags on the counter top, reaching for the gun stored on its underside.  She looked back to the closed door through which she entered, and found a white envelope taped to the inside of it.  Looking at it suspiciously, she approached and ripped the envelope from the door.  Opening it, Viv found one item contained within—a photo—no words were scribbled on the back side of it, no letter was included.  It was a photo, just that.

The girl in the picture had golden hair, a warm blue gaze that was familiar and Viv couldn’t quite place it.  She furrowed her brow, trying to make a connection.

And then it hit her.

 _Her dream_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna


	22. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange happenings are afoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you still reading. My posts have been somewhat delayed due to some life, work, etc. type stuff. Haven't had as much time as I'd like to write, so I take what I can get. We are entering into the final story arc with this chapter, and it doesn't even feel real. Stoked to hear what y'all think, and can't wait to get the rest of this out there!
> 
> characters owned by bioware.

_Cipritine, Forimus Sublevel Apartment_

 

Shepard held the photo in her hand, intently studying the woman who stared back.  Dread licked at her heart, knowing that the girl from her dream watching back at her had some significance in her life outside of her mind; she just couldn’t figure out _what_.

She’d seen her before—she had to have.  Viv’s new missive was figuring out just _where_ she’d appeared.  There were pieces of her old life that she buried, and she wasn’t looking forward to unearthing her history.  That photo was placed there for a reason by somebody with far too much access to the Hierarchy, to be able to slip through security and hack into the apartment of Palaven’s highest governing official.

That conclusion limited the list of potential perpetrators, but it got Viv nowhere closer to figuring out just who this woman was.  Stepping out of her analysis of the situation, Viv drew up her omni-tool and messaged Adrien right away.

_[16:30 GST: Shepard, G.]_

_How long until you’re home? Some weird shit going on. No rush, but uh…yeah._

_-V_

Shepard shifted her weight, looking at the photo in her clammy hands once more as she waited for Adrien to respond.

\---

_Cipritine, Office of the Viceroy_

Adrien looked to Garrus after showing him the array of datapads sectioned off for each turian colony for direct, secure communications with not only the other primarchs, but also ambassadors stationed at embassies across the galaxy, prominent members of both the Hierarchy itself as well as military leaders on Palaven and beyond. 

As viceroy, Garrus would be taking on most military dealings as it was the best use of the expertise he developed as Reaper Adviser during the war and historically, a role that the second-in-command always took on.  Where strategy and tactics were concerned the younger turian had clear, sure footing.  It was the expansiveness of his responsibilities now that riddled his subvocals with unease.

“Questions so far, Viceroy?”  Adrien heard his nerves loud and clear, and relayed assurance through his subharmonics as he spoke.

“Where do I start?” Garrus deadpanned.  He fisted his talons a few times, fidgeting as he took in his new office. 

Adrien chuffed in response and was about to speak when his omni-tool pinged with a message from Viv.  Twitching a mandible, he looked up to Garrus who was perusing a datapad.  The younger turian looked back up to the Primarch and asked, “Everything okay?”

“I think so, Viv said something strange is going on at the apartment,” he explained.  “Need to grab a few things from my office before I head home, but you are more than welcome to follow me back.  We were planning on drinks with Liara later anyway, and Viv was hoping you’d come along.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Garrus confirmed.  “I’ll finish up here and meet you guys over there before we head out.”

Adrien nodded curtly, letting the Viceroy continue acclimating to his new surroundings, his new life.  He left Garrus’ office, moving down the hall to his own office to wrap up business for the day.  He entered the access code on his omni-tool and the door slid open.  Walking over to his desk, Adrien heard the doors close and ever the cautious turian, looked up to ensure that nobody had followed him inside.  If Viv was unnerved, Adrien felt like he had to be on guard as well.

When he looked at the closed door, he noticed a white envelope taped to the inside. He spared a sidelong glance at it—most communications he received on the regular were digital, encrypted—someone had taken great care to place this envelope inside of the Primarch of Palaven’s office.

Adrien took tentative steps back toward the door, pulling the envelope off and ripping it open with an ungloved talon.  Inside was a photo, a picture of a young turian male bearing Cipritine markings.  One of his fringe spines was dented, though it was clear the male in the photo hadn’t seen much combat.  He appeared to be fresh out of the Academy, little more than a fledgling.  Grey eyes stared back, mandibles relaxed into a comfortable grin.

The kid looked happy, as content as a photo of a stranger was able to articulate.  Adrien didn’t know the man—boy, perhaps—in the picture, but he knew the markings.  He was from the area, of that Victus had no doubt.

He pulled up his ‘tool to return Viv’s message.

_[16:42 GST: Victus, A.]_

_Leaving the office soon. Does your ‘weird shit,’ as you so eloquently put it, have anything to do with an envelope?_

_-A_

Adrien hit send and slipped a few datapads into his bag, doing another quick once-over of his office to see if anything else was out of place.  At a glance, it wasn’t—and that had to be good enough for now.  His priority was getting home to his mate. He left in a hurry as he typed out a message to Forimus security, asking for feeds of anyone leaving or entering the area.

He could investigate more later.

\---

_Cipritine, Forimus Sublevel Apartment_

 

Viv stood at the counter with a drink in hand, sipping on bourbon while looking at the photo, then back to the door.  Adrien finally responded, and her heart thudded harder in her chest when she learned that he may have had something similar happen to him—from his message inquiring about an envelope, Viv could assemble those pieces together on her own.

Someone had left one for him, too.  She responded:

_[16:44 GST: Shepard, G.]_

_Yes, said weird shit involves an envelope.  Now get your spiny ass home, ok?_

_-V_

She hit send and took another swig, growing more nervous the longer she stared at the picture.  Viv couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard she tried.  Someone had invaded their space and had done so without she or Adrien’s consent.  She hadn’t a clue as to who the perpetrator might be.  Hopeful that Adrien might have further insights, all she could do was wait for him to get home.  They’d do their best to figure it out together—they always did—but that notion didn’t abate the edgy tension that the breach of privacy and security caused.

At long last, Adrien walked into their apartment with concern lining his stern features.  He all but ran over to Viv, taking her face between his hands as he gently brushed his talons over her sharp cheekbones.

“Are you okay?”  He asked, searching her up and down for any sign of struggle as he rumbled soothingly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, placing her hands over his before reaching down and picking the photo up from the counter.  “Nobody was actually here.”  She handed it to Adrien.  “This was taped to the door.”

He brushed his brow to hers before taking the photo into his hands. He turned it over in his talons, inspecting the backside of it for any indication of who might have put it there and just like the one he found in his office—there was nothing. 

He looked at the photo of the girl, then back to Viv before reaching into his bag and pulling out the envelope that he himself had received.

“This was taped to the inside of my office door.”  He handed the image of the turian to Viv.  “Do you recognize him from anywhere?”

She took it from him, studying it.  “Never seen him before in my life,” she said.  “Do you recognize the markings?”

“Cipritine,” he said.  “But that’s about as far as I can tell.  He looks young.”

“What the hell is going on here, Adrien?”  She asked him, pulling up her glass for another sip, seeking the comfortable burn of liquid courage.

“I don’t know,” he said.  “But I’m concerned, because whoever placed these at our doors has far more access to us than what I am comfortable with.  I requested the Forimus security vids from the area, so with any luck we’ll have something to go on soon.  I will also put in a request to expedite the reconstruction of the villa, because clearly the security here isn’t enough.  We require a full staff, and I am no longer willing to sacrifice our safety in the name of expediency.”

“Yeah,” Viv said, nodding.  “It just seems so...innocuous. They’re only photos. But at the same time photos, Adrien?  The idea just makes me uncomfortable.  Who in the hell would have that kind of access, and what kind of message is this supposed to convey?”   

“Unless you recognize either of these people, there is no way to understand the message until one, we figure out who these two are.”  Adrien walked to the fridge and pulled out a dextro beer for himself.  “Or two, the security vids give us some leads.” He cracked the bottle open and took a long pull.

Both photos sat side by side on the countertop.  A human and a turian, so it wasn’t solely a Hierarchy concern.  Were these two individuals connected in some way?  Were they criminals, martyrs?  Did they fight in the war, were they lost in it? 

“Have you tried running the image through facial recognition on your omni-tool?” Viv asked him.

“This is a photograph, not a digital image,” Adrien said, shaking his head from side to side.  “But it doesn’t hurt to try.”

Viv walked over, omni-tool poised to scan.  As expected, the scan failed—as technology evolved, it didn’t keep up with the mediums of old and photos were even further back in turian history than they were in that of humans—they were a 15,000-year-old civilization, after all.  Digital imaging had been the norm for them for literally centuries.  There was no reason to believe scanning a photo such as this would work, but it didn’t hurt to try.

The effort was futile, getting them no closer to linking up any pieces of this puzzle.  Viv however, hadn’t come completely clean.  She was nervous about telling Adrien that she _had_ seen the girl before, albeit in the ethereal throes of the dreams and nightmares that riddled her with restlessness.

“Adrien.”  Viv’s voice was little more than a whisper. His mandibles twitched in acknowledgement, signaling her to continue. 

“The girl, I’ve…”  She took a sip, then looked him in the eye.  “I’ve seen her, in a dream.”

Trilling in question, he met her gaze but didn’t interrupt.  She continued, “That night, after our first time with Sparatus?  My nightmare… _changed_.  I’ve told you about it, the recurring one with the church?”

“Of course,” he confirmed.  “It’s haunted you for some time.”

“Yeah,” Viv choked out in a half-laugh, humor at Adrien’s understatement.  “But that night, it was different.  Instead of some faceless ghoul pulling me out of it, it was that girl.  The one in the photo.”

Adrien searched her face, looking for just what he didn’t know.  He was concerned, fearful for their safety, and fearful for his mate.  “And you have no idea where you might have seen her before?”  Adrien reached a hand up to the side of her neck, brushing under her jawbone with his talons and shooting tingles up her spine, calming her down in ways he only knew how. 

“Not a clue,” she said, eyelids sliding closed.  She met his gaze again after releasing a deep exhale.  “And I realize that for her to appear not just in my dream, but in a photo too means that I _have_ seen her somewhere.  I’ve just blocked out so much of my past that if she’d appeared during those times, at any point, it’s likely that I’ve just tucked it away.  I just…I don’t _know_ , and that terrifies me.”

He pulled Viv into his arms, enveloping her in his strength.  “It scares me too, beautiful.”  He nipped her forehead gently in a soft kiss, talons running through her hair and prickling at her scalp.  She melted in his arms as the rumbling tones of his voice coursed through them both.  “We’ll get to the bottom of this.  You can count on that.”

Meeting his gaze, she gave him a quick kiss to his mouth plates and backed away, reaching for the bottle of booze, refilling her glass halfway.  “I know we will.” 

She downed the dark liquid in one gulp. 

\---

_The Citadel, Council Offices_

“I’ll not hear another word of this, Councilor,” Sparatus said, fuming.  “You are to treat her with _respect_ when you call in, _if_ we ever allow you to sit in again.”

Linron glared back, visibly at a loss for what else to say.  Sparatus had the highlights delivered to him by his assistant, and it didn’t take long to see that Councilor Linron had worn out her welcome early in the session.  She’d never dare speak to Shepard that way with him in the room, and he was furious that Linron was under the impression that she could get away with it in his absence.

And if _Victus_ had been there, they’d likely be looking for the salarian councilor’s replacement. 

“I…lost sight of myself, Councilor,” a moping Linron spoke, lowly.  “It will not happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.”  Sparatus didn’t allow her another word, and promptly cut off the holo in much the same way that Shepard had done to him many years before.  Linron was only in the other room and could march right over to his office if she wanted, but the intent was still there.  Maybe he’d walk over just so he could shut the door in her face.  He rumbled to himself, letting the frustration slip off as much as he could, then quietly laughed at the memory of he and Shepard’s heated conversations before the war.

Steeling himself for the mountains of reports he needed to complete before heading to his apartment, he left the comm room and slipped into his office.  The kava maker he kept there beckoned and he walked over and started up a brew, idly checking his omni-tool while he waited.  There was nothing that he hadn’t already been briefed on; he let out a sigh of relief that no further galactic crises were likely to arise before the end of his work day.

He poured a cup of the brew, savoring the smell before tipping the turian-style mug to his mouth.  Sparatus swallowed and exhaled, letting the vapors and robust, nutty flavor wash over him, calming himself down after the altercation with the salarian as well as prepping for the work that lay ahead.

Walking to his desk, he did a quick scan of the office as one is apt to do, bracing himself for monotony—one of the cruelest tortures.  Sparatus’ eyes shifted to the door where a single, white, square envelope was stuck to the inside.  His mandibles twitched uncontrollably—most turians placed great value on personal space, and the fact that someone had invaded his got to him, instantly.

His eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, taking cautious steps toward his office door, sniffing the air and darting his gaze around to make sure nothing else was amiss, that the leaver of the message wasn’t hidden away in the room somewhere.

Confident he was alone, he pulled the envelope from the door and turned it over in his hands before slicing it open and pulling out a photograph—an image of a smiling asari, skin an Earth-sky blue, markings a dark violet.

It was a perplexing thing, really—such an old medium, he hadn’t held a photo in his hands in years and even the ones he’d seen in his lifetime were ancient.  Turians had innovated beyond printed photos centuries ago.

They were archaic, a symbol of the old ways.

Sparatus had never seen the asari in his life, and if he had she clearly didn’t make a lasting impression.  He got the sense that he needed to find this woman, that this message was intended to spark _something_.  There were no further communications included in the envelope, and the vagueness of the intent behind this was unnerving on its own.

_If some stranger expects me to writhe around in the dirt like a varren in heat, they are sorely mistaken._

He huffed at how ludicrous the whole thing was—a photo, old but not malevolent.  _Odd_ but not immediately threatening.  What was this person getting at?  This asari, who was she?

Still scrutinizing both the photo and ridiculous situation he found himself in, his attention was pulled when his omni-tool sounded with a message.  Sparatus lifted his wrist to accept the message; _Viv_.

_[18:12 PM GST: Shepard, G.]_

_Sorry I didn’t return your message earlier—catching up with Liara, I’m sure you understand.  How are you?  Adrien and I hope you can catch a break soon—once the villa is back in working order, we’d love to have you if only for a long weekend._

_By the way, something odd is happening on this end.  I’ll give you more details soon, but we may need your uh…_ resources _, help us figure something out.  We’re taking a trip back to the Citadel soon and we’ll fill you in then.  Won’t have much time for social exchanges, but I’m sure that the Primarch and I can clear our schedules some for our favorite councilor._

_Hope all is well, and we’ll be seeing you._

_-V_

_[18:15 PM GST: Sparatus]_

_I figured as much.  I’m well, mostly—and wanted to apologize for what happened today with our_ esteemed _salarian councilor.  It will not happen again, and if it does, well…we’ll deal with that then._

_Something odd, you say? Same here, to be truthful.  I’d rather not discuss it over comm, though—so about catching up.  Please do let me know your plans during your stay on the station.  I’ll make reservations._

_I hope that your ‘something odd’ does not add to your addled sleep, and that you and Adrien are playing it safe.  I will do the same.  My gut tells me that something dark is coming, but I cannot be certain._

_Take care of yourselves, and I’ll do my best to take care of mine._

He didn’t get an immediate reply, so he was resigned to getting actual work done, no more reasons to put it off further.  He could investigate the photo, yes—but something deep at the base of Sparatus’ skull told him he wouldn’t like what he found.  He had a bad, bad feeling twisting at his gizzard, but he couldn’t let that distract him now, with so little to go on.

He worked, late into the night. When he locked up his office, he snagged an extra heat sink just in case before he left to go home—one eye constantly glancing over his shoulder every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ flux-eterna

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please feel free to leave me any constructive criticism, or just send loves!


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